нoмιcιdє αηd ρѕуcнo тнєяαρу
by l2adiol2obot
Summary: Dean Winchester is a homicide detective. Castiel Novak is a criminal psychologist. They've only known each other for a year due to a chance meeting. Though what happens when the lines between friends and something more start to blur? Future Destiel.AH-AU
1. A hard day's work

**A/n:** Shit guys, I'm completely sorry for not updating any of my stories for so long. Lots of stuff has been going on. If I was talking to you through messages, apparently any of the old ones got deleted with the new upgraded private message system. Anyways, I'm working on getting promoted once again. Only shit's happening. I'm not being trained right, they're making me do everything and I was left all alone without an alarm code. Let's just say the DM was SO not happy about that. I'm just glad he said it wasn't my fault when I apologized. Out of all the stores to train me, I get like the worst ones at training people. sucks ass. So fingers crossed that things get better.

**Title:** Homicide && Psycho therapy (Winchester style)

**Rating:** T for mentions of a crime scene. If reading about dead people or horrific events isn't your thing. Don't read, since the main characters are always dealing with death. Dean is a Homicide detective and Castiel is a criminal psychologist.

**Pairing:** Future Destiel. If man love isn't your thing, that's fine. Cause I said FUTURE destiel. Which means it isn't happening yet... I think. It all depends on my writing partner too. LOL. As for any other pairings, I have no idea either.

**Co-written with:** Blakely G

He has a fanfiction, his link to his profile will be located on my profile if you want to read his stories!

He plays Dean Winchester, I write for Castiel.

Since we're basically doing it role-play style. The perspective is going to change every line break.

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><p>CHAPTER ONE<p>

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><p><strong>CASTIEL's POV.<strong>

"That's why you did it. I know how you feel. You wanted justice, you saw no one else offering it so you took matters in to your own hands. So tell me.. Was it worth it?"

"No... nothing changed. I thought it would. For that brief moment, everything seemed like it would be better. That those pills would be off the streets that were responsible for taking my Andy's life. But then Rachel told everyone not to worry about it. That she would take over and keep the pills selling. I couldn't have that so I killed her too. But it doesn't change anything. It wasn't going to bring Andy back."

"No, it isn't. But you prevented others ending up on that path."

Before the man wearing a fine dark blue suit could say any more, he was interrupted by a detective stepping in and shutting off the tape that had been recording the confession to the case that had just been cracked. He nodded at the detective and then towards the woman that had gotten her justice for the indirect murder of her son. That was how she saw it, that the woman, Veronica had been responsible for distributing the pills that the suspect's son had ingested and then wrapped his car around a tree.

Castiel hadn't been kidding though, he knew how it felt to want to take matters in your own hands and see justice prevail. But things didn't always work out the way you wanted it to. To be honest, Castiel felt that it was best to leave it all in God's hands. But a very good friend of his would scoff, though respect his beliefs. But here it was, killing the person who took a family member from you wasn't going to change things. If anything it would make you feel worse.

Castiel was speaking of one of the only people that seemed to just _get_him. Despite only knowing the guy for only a little over a year. Who was he talking about? Dean Winchester. The guy was a saint among men. Not only did he devote his time to tracking down heinous murderers but he practically sacrificed himself when it came to others. Was it healthy? God no, but that was why Castiel was thankful for his faith. Otherwise, who would pray for Dean? He constantly was in Castiel's prayers for the man who hunted monsters in this world to be safe, to get out unscathed while he caught the bad people. While he solved crimes and surrounded himself in the darkness that the world has succumb to.

The brunette walked out of the interrogation room of a police precinct he was visiting. They needed someone of his expertise to get the woman to break down and confess to the crime that they felt she was capable of. What did this mysterious blue eyed man do? He was a psychologist, but not just any problem solving, shoulder to lean on go to guy. No, he helped the world catching and understanding criminals. From serial killers to rapists or distraught mothers seeking justice for losing their most precious thing in the world. Her child. It was a pain staking, stressed inducing job, but look at it this way. If he didn't do it..who else would? Thankfully though, Castiel wasn't alone in this world. No, he had a rather large family for support.

Though, if anyone watched how they interacted, it would be more than clear that he was the odd ball. The black sheep of the family.

Castiel James Novak.

Most people called him by his full name. Others in high school would for some strange reason forsake his first name and call him Jimmy which was a nickname branching off from his middle name. He never understood why. Perhaps they didn't understand his namesake? It didn't matter though. The only person that dubbed him a nickname that he actually liked was Dean Winchester. What did he call him? Cas. So simple yet so much more. Better than what his brother and sometimes his sister called him. Cassie. Castiel shuddered mentally just thinking of it. Why would they call him by something so feminine? It was another thing he never understood but never bothered to question.

Regardless, Castiel was the baby of the family. A baby yet he was twenty eight. But maybe they were just over protective because of the fact that he was indeed...innocent. He blamed his virginity being intact due to never having time or an opportunity for a relationship. Castiel didn't approve of one night stands, didn't like the idea of giving a piece of yourself to some drunken stranger you would never see again. No, that wasn't for him. He wanted commitment. Which seemed scarce now and days. Was he afraid? Maybe a little.

Balthazar would tease him about it but it wasn't out of malice, so Castiel didn't mind. Balthazar was his older brother by two years. Then there was Anna, his only sister who was thirty one and acted more like a mother than anything. Which was understandable since they didn't have a mother anymore. Castiel had never known her and never would. She had died giving birth to him, which was probably why his father didn't really ever want anything to do with him.

Oh yeah, Castiel was just the illustration of a picture perfect family.

But thankfully his brothers and sister didn't blame him for what happened. They did their best protecting him from their father. No, no, no, don't worry. He wasn't abused or anything obscene like that. Just a little neglected sometimes, but for the most part, his father got over his pain he was dealing with when Castiel was nine. It took years but he was there for his son until Castiel turned eighteen.. Then he vanished without a trace.

Castiel has been trying to find him ever since with no such luck. His brothers and sister have given up already, but Castiel has faith that his father is out there somewhere.. at the very least still alive. His other older brothers are Gabriel and Michael. He has a couple of cousins too, but their dicks. So he doesn't talk about them. Notice a pattern with the names, with the except of Anna, all of them are named after angels. His mother had named Anna, which is why she is different. His father had been a popular well loved priest.

Now where was Castiel headed? To the usual place. It had been a rough day and he needed a drink. Needed to unwind with his friend. Castiel wouldn't be surprised if Dean brought his brother Samuel along. They were kind of a package deal. Which Castiel didn't mind because Samuel Winchester was a good man as well. He was lawyer who worked hard on sentencing criminals or protecting the innocent. It was funny how they were all working for the greater good. For justice and to protect the people who couldn't fight the evil for themselves.

Castiel got into his car which was a plain Honda civic. It was nothing like Dean's car. Now his friend had the best looking car ever. He started the ignition and drove to 'The Roadhouse' which was owned by Ellen Harvelle. She was a little rough around the edges but she too had a kind heart. It was easy to see. Or perhaps it was just easy for Castiel because he could read people's insides well. It didn't take too long before he was seated on a stool, a beer in hand and talking to Ellen about how the day had gone as he waited for Dean.

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><p><strong>DEAN'S POV.<strong>

Crime scenes aren't something you get used in the homicide division, ever. You find ways to cope with the images that are seared into your retinas, but you never 'get used' to seeing someone brutally murdered. You never 'get used' to seeing a room, an alley way, a sidewalk covered in blood. You never 'get used' to seeing men, women, children killed and thrown aside as though they were nothing more than trash. Every crime scene is considerably different and yet eerily the same. There is always a person, or what was a person now just a shell, lifeless and empty waiting to be found and waiting for the family to make the final decision; burial or cremation.

Every time you step into a particularly bad scene you always say 'this is the worst of my career' until the next one rolls around and that one because the worst of your career, the cycle is vicious and constant and every person working homicide knows it. Having to tell the family members that one of their loved ones is dead, that has to be one of the worst moments. The reactions vary from person to person; some are stoic, other screams, some faint, hell he's even had someone throw up on his shoes it all depends on the person. How many times has he said, 'I'm so sorry for your loss' to a sobbing women or a man trying to be brave for his family by holding back tears that want nothing more than to fall? Too many times and he still doesn't know how he forces himself to get up in the morning and do it all over again. No, that's a lie. He knows how he does it. It's all for the justice, it might not bring closure to a family but he sure as hell can catch the culprit to bring them justice.

The man who dedicated his life to helping to the grief torn families and to helping the poor souls who could no longer help themselves was Dean M. Winchester. _Detective_ Dean M. Winchester, though the title of detective lost its luster some time ago. Yeah he still flashes his badge to the ladies every now and then but the cocky smile that is flashed along with it doesn't hold the bravado it once had. His job is really all he has besides his younger brother and the few friends he's managed to hang onto, but that doesn't stop him from admitting every once and a while that the job really gets to him at times. Like the case he was just called to, for instance.

Home invasion turned homicide; the guy who broke in chose the fight instead of the flight response and turned his gun on the residents of the house, two of which were just children. He wasn't sure if any of them made it or not, he only got a partial explanation but was promised a full update as soon as he arrived. He had been at home when he had gotten the call to come out so he had quickly shooed out the pretty waitress he had over, pulled on his pants and shirt, jumped into his car, and now Detective Winchester was driving as fast as he could to the crime scene where his coworkers were already sealing and assessing the area. He had somehow convinced the head of the police force that his '67 Chevy Impala would make a good undercover car, but then again it was no surprise at all. Dean was known for being able to charm his way in and out of sticky situations.

As always Dean managed to get to the crime scene in record time, pulling up to the curb on the opposite side of the house to stay out of the way of the ambulance that was starting to pull away. If an ambulance was there that meant someone survived right? He hoped so and he felt terrible for thinking this, but if there was a living witness it could make his job easier. Dean got out of his car and shut the door to the Impala harsher than he had intended to, only glancing back at it for a second before he jogged across the street.

He flashed his badge the cop on the other side of the crime scene tape and the man gave him a slight nod, Okaying him for ducking under the tape. Dean headed for the front door, scanning the outside of the house carefully. He was looking for anything really, a shoe print, a cigarette butt, or recently disturbed earth to tell him someone had been there. When his scan left him empty handed he turned his attention back to the front of the house. The door was wide open and Dean could see from where he was that it had been kicked in by the intruder. That was what probably woke the family up, not very subtle entry. Dean stored that thought in his brain as he saw the officer who contacted him in the doorway, a grim look on his face. With a look like that it must be a bad scene so Dean took a deep breath before approaching.

**"Got here in record time like always Winchester."**The man, Hendrickson, said as soon as Dean met him at the door.

**"Expect anything less? Now go ahead and give me the run down."**Dean said as he continued to scan the building for anything of significance.

The house on the outside looked large, well more like long, and was painted a soft blue color. Dean noted some blood on the outside of the doorframe before he stepped inside. His nose was overwhelmed with the smell of bleach though it looked like nothing had been cleaned. The front room of the house was very spacious and had antique looking furniture. It had three windows but the drapes were closed on all of them so the room was only lit by the light coming through the open door behind him. In the middle of the room was the body of the first victim, the father Dean supposed.

The man appeared to be in his late thirties to early forties, with dark hair and was dressed in a white under shirt and pajama pants that matched the color of the outside of the house. He was lying on his stomach and it looked as though he had been trying to get into the hall where the bedrooms were when he was killed. A drying pool of blood was underneath him and Dean wondered briefly where the bleach smell was coming from. From what Dean could see the man had been shot three times, the shot that killed was to the back of the head. The green eyed man looked over at Hendrickson, who was also looking at the body, as he waited for him to start speaking. The other man lifted his head to look at Dean before giving a nod and stepping closer to the body.

"The first victim was the father Eric Morris, thirty-eight, who came into the living room when the door busted open," Hendrickson began to explain as he walked around the dead man to stand on the opposite side of Dean, "It appears the he turned to go back into the hall and was shot three times. Once to the right shoulder," _Bang_, "Once towards the lower back," _Bang_, "and once to the back of the head," _Bang_, "which was the shot that killed him."

Dean just nodded and bent down to get a closer look, a thoughtful expression on his face. The man's gray eyes were open, staring sightlessly in the direction of the far wall. The man stood back up and glanced over to Hendrickson who lead him into the hall. The hallway was long but narrow and there were four doors. Three doors were on the wall in front of him and one at the end of the hall on the same wall as the opening to the living room. That door lead to the kitchen he was told, while two of the doors were bedrooms and one was a bathroom. Hendrickson lead him to the last door on the right which was the master bedroom where the parents slept. The room was large with a king size bed in the middle of the farthest wall, a bookcase on the wall to the right next to a door to the closet, and a large dresser on the wall to left. The mother's slender body was crumpled in the doorway; just a step into the room, her red curls covering her face from Dean's searching eyes. She was wearing a thin, pink nightgown and long white socks and Dean noticed how she almost looked like a doll.

"The second was the mother Julia Morris, thirty-four. She was heading to her husband when the intruder came down the hall. She was shot one time in her forehead," _Bang_, "and was killed instantly." Hendrickson said slowly, watching Dean's eyes travel around the room. He knew the man wasn't going to like what he saw next, but despite how horrible the fact was, he knew it would make Dean work harder to find who did this so it worked out in his favor.

Once Dean was finished in the master bedroom walked back into the corridor and over to Hendrickson with a solemn shake of his head, mumbling about how he was going to track this guy down. Hendrickson nodded and motioned for the other man to follow him down the hall. He stopped in front of the last door on the right at the other end from where the parents' room was and stepped aside. It was a large room, though not as big as the master bedroom, which had two twin size beds that were only separated by a small, black nightstand. On the right side of the room the blankets were bright red just as the tall dresser and colored see-through storage containers that were stacked against the wall.

The covers were thrown back and were lying partially on the beige carpet. The left side of the room was practically a mirror of the right, except for everything that was red on the right was orange on the left. The major difference though was the body that was lying on the left bed. It was obviously the body of a teenager, maybe sixteen, his shaggy hair laying messily in his face and his arm hanging limply off the bed. He was facing the left wall and from where Dean was he could see the boy's eyes were opened as was his mouth slightly. He was wearing a white undershirt that was too big for him, _'Probably his father's'_, and black boxers, both of which were covered in blood.

"This was the room for the son's Aaron, twelve, and Jasper, sixteen. When Jasper heard the intruder break in and gunshots fire he threw himself from his bed and laid on top of his younger brother to shield him. When the intruder came in here he shot at Jasper six times. Twice in the left shoulder," _Bang_, _Bang_, "twice in his back," _Bang_, _Bang_, "and two hit him in the left leg." _Bang_, _Bang_. "Aaron wasn't hit, but by the time he got his brother off of him and got to the phone the intruder had vanished and Jasper had bled out. Aaron was in shock when paramedics arrived and wouldn't talk to anyone. The neighbors said they heard what they thought were gunshots, but none of them saw anything. Poor kid, having your brother shot on top of you?"Hendrickson shook his head in disgust and turned toward Dean, who's only sign of emotion, were his clenched fists and the flash in his eyes.

"That sick bastard…"Dean grated out eventually as he walked farther into the room. These kids really hit home with him. Jasper was four years older than Aaron, just as Dean was four years older than his brother Sam, and there was no doubt Dean would throw himself in the way of a bullet for Sam seeing as the two were extremely close.

Dean was done in this room; he needed to walk away before he disturbed the crime scene by punching a hole through the wall. He turned on his heels and headed into the kitchen directly across from the boy's room. It was a spacious kitchen and it reminded Dean of some cozy cottage a retired couple would want. Defiantly odd decorating style the two had. Dean walked around the area but when he found nothing he walked through the entry way that lead into a dark den. This room seemed to have a Zen theme and Dean noticed it had a few valuable items, including a large flat screen television and a stereo system. What kind of robber breaks in and kills the family, but leaves the valuable stuff? _'That makes no sense…'_ Dean mused as he went back through the kitchen, down the hall and into the front room. When nothing seemed missing from there either he huffed slightly and added it to his notes he had been taking down.

He flipped to the first page of his notes and read through them, running one hand through his hair. _'Father was killed first with three quick gunshots, bang, bang, bang. The mother was next, shot once through the head, bang. Then last the son, shot six times in the back, twice in each area a shot hit. Twice into his shoulder, Bang, Bang. Then to his back, Bang, Bang. Then his leg, Bang, Bang. Why he shot so many times? Maybe since he didn't get a head shot he just wanted to make sure the kid was dead? That doesn't sit right with me though.'_Dean ran a hand down his face and shook his head; he needed to talk to Aaron, since he was their only lead at the moment.

"Aaron's not talking and hospital said they wanted to watch him over night, so you'll have to wait for tomorrow to interview the kid."It was as if the man had read his mind.

"Right then. I'm heading back to the office. Want to see if I can dig anything up that'll lead to this son of a bitch."And with that Dean left the house and got in his car, pulling away from the curb and speeding off before anyone could aye or nay.

He sat at his desk silently for a long time, digging through the Morris' background looking for anything that could hint at what had happened to them. _'Nothing, there's nothing here! God, these people are so squeaky clean it makes me want shower.'_ Dean exhaled slowly and looked around at his research. He had to have missed something. As he picked up his first pile and began looking through it again another officer walked over. The man decided against saying whatever he had in mind at the last minute, he could clearly see Winchester was in what they called his 'hunter' mode and didn't want to distract him.

He backed out quietly and Dean hadn't even noticed he was there. By the time Dean sat back in his chair with an aggravated sigh the whole day had flown by. _'I spent all day researching and found zilch? Man, Sammy would have something to say about that.'_A small smirk appeared on the tired man's face as he stood up and told everyone he was calling it a night. He needed to go get Sam and head to the bar where he knew his friend Castiel was waiting. He gave a quick wave to whoever was in the room and left the building, getting in his car and driving over to the place where his brother worked. Dean didn't know how Sam always knew when he got there, but as soon as the car pulled up the taller man was out the door, down the stairs, and hopping into the passenger seat. The younger man had a look on his face that said he had a long day and Dean knew he had the same so the car ride was silent until they reached the bar.

Like usual Cas was sitting on a barstool already, nursing his drink and talking with Ellen. Dean and Sam flashed the woman a smile, which she turned as she set to beers on the bar next to their friend. Dean took the barstool next to Cas and Sam sat on the other side of his brother, both lifting their beers and taking a drink at the same time.

"So a detective, a shrink, and a lawyer walked into a bar." Dean joked to the blue eyed man with a smirk, nudging him slightly with his elbow. "Had a long day Cas? Everybody seemed to today. Speaking of my day, answer this. A supposed home invader kicks in a front door, kills a whole family, and leaves without taking a thing. In a house filled with valuable stuff. Does that make sense?"

Dean glanced between Cas and Sam, the latter shaking his head with a thoughtful look that rivaled his brother's. Dean's eyes fell onto his good friend as he turned toward him slightly, resting his elbow on the bar and leaning against it.

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><p><strong>CASTIEL'S POV.<strong>

Castiel could tell the boys were there coming to join them without even having to look up and see their faces. Perhaps it was the feeling of _change _in the air. Almost as if he could just feel his friend's aura or some of that weird mumbo jumbo as Dean would call it. He didn't even know how to put in to words or break it down how he knew. Perhaps he had been just simply watching Ellen's facial structure. When she had turned because of movement that caught her eye, she got that smile that was only reserved for someone who she had saw as family. He heard the chair scraping the floor despite all the noise in the place and felt a heat radiating near him. Castiel wondered if everyone felt this way when it came to sitting next to someone like Dean Winchester. The man had a large sum of charisma, spirit and a limitless amount of love to give to those people in his life that he had let in.

"So a detective, a shrink, and a lawyer walked into a bar." Dean joked towards Castiel and the blue hair in question felt a slight nudge at his own elbow. His eyes flickered downwards at the touching. He made no comment towards it but returned a slight smile in Dean's direction. "Had a long day Cas? Everybody seemed to today. Speaking of my day, answer this. A supposed home invader kicks in a front door, kills a whole family, and leaves without taking a thing. In a house filled with valuable stuff. Does that make sense?"

Castiel heard the question and his own eyes flickered towards Sam seeing him shake his head. Clearly he was just as stumped as his brother. The blue haired man loved it during times like this. When they didn't have the answers they seek but Castiel did, human behavior was all he had ever sought to learn. To see what made people do what they did, find out why and break it down for other people. Namely, Dean's type of people. Helping the police detectives put together profiles of the criminally crazed and help them find what they were looking for.

That or sometimes get a reading on one of the suspects they had in custody and see if they were telling the truth or spinning their web of lies. "Clearly the supposed home invader did invade a home.. but being a burglar would imply that he was after something of value. Yet nothing was taken. Clearly he was there on other business. How many times were these people shot? If it's more than once it was anything but out of panic or fear. He wanted them killed. If not himself, then he was there on the business of someone else. If it was personal, it's a crime of passion. Perhaps they were black mailing the suspect. It's all conclusive without some shred of evidence to go on. There's a number of possibilities but with so many anomalies, I can not provide decent answers."

Castiel's expression showed that he was indeed sorry for not being very helpful. But he was speaking from what he had to go on. Maybe Dean would get lucky and the person would of left a piece of DNA behind. Though it was doubtful. If he had shot the other people so many times, it was possible it was a job, thus the person would of been careful. Castiel didn't know but he could speculate. Though speculation got you no where. Castiel fingered the label on the beer bottle for a moment before taking a drink, he had been idly drinking the first beer due to the waiting period but now that the boys were here. He could figuratively drink himself silly. Literally, he planned on getting a little drunk. "Ellen, three shots of tequila, please."

"Buying a round for the boys? That's sweet." The older woman said lightly, musing to herself as she quickly went to action. Grabbing three shot glasses, slamming them down on the counter quickly and filling them to the brim with the golden liquid fire. At least it felt like fire when it was going down. But a good burn. "Those are for me, you can get them a round of whatever they want though." Castiel said with his own source of humor that seemed to be buried down underneath his usually literal sense of everything sometimes. As if to prove his point, he started on the left one, downed it, set it down and proceeded to quick shot the next two in rapid succession. He shook his head as the liquid ran down, burning so good. It didn't take long after that for him to get approached by a woman. Long dirty blonde hair, light blue eyes and a slim figure clad in a little black dress suddenly was there next to him. She had set her hands on his shoulder which had then stiffened under her touch. She didn't know.

She wouldn't know and she couldn't know.

He didn't like it when they did that. She didn't seem to notice, perhaps she was too intoxicated to. Perhaps she didn't care. But Castiel HATED being touched by most people let alone people he didn't know. There were exceptions for this rule, the most obvious was Dean. Then came the rest of the people he saw as family or friends; Sam, Bobby, Ellen and the small rest of the exclusive list. But this woman, how could she know? She wouldn't. He hadn't taken a breath since she had set her hand on his shoulder one full minute ago, it was almost as if he was frozen on the spot. He hadn't even heard what she had said to him. Trying to rewind the moment and process what he had heard. He assumed she had said something along the lines of 'hey there honey, what's your name? I'm Chasity.' If anything, that sounded like an escort's name. He turned slightly in her direction, eyes almost glaring daggers at her hand until she finally noticed it and released her hold on him. Castiel rolled his shoulders, now unburdened by the stranger's weight. If someone had thought him not human, it would almost look like a bird stretching it's wings. But that was preposterous. Despite what he had just done and the fact that his body language clearly screamed that he wasn't interested, she smiled at him warmly, putting on the charm.

"What do you say? We get out of here?"  
>"I say that your lacking a father figure, someone that never told you how special you were. Someone that wasn't there when you needed him so you turned to what you do as a way to receive the attention from men you never got when you were a child." The woman looked at him appalled before she rose her hand to strike him across the face. But Castiel shot her a look that was even more deadly than before, making her hesitate, falter in her movements. She then scoffed and stamped off, calling him a jerk. The brunette shook his head and ran a hand over his arm, trying to brush off her hands that had been on him. The story behind him not liking physical touch had been only relayed once. Castiel had made Dean swore never to tell anyone else about what had happened to him as a child. Judging by the weird and shocked looks he had received from Sam, Dean had kept his promise til this day.<p>

Ellen hadn't seen the exchange thankfully, she had been busy off serving a couple of men down the line. Sam had looked at him in shock still before finally speaking. "Dude! Harsh much? I mean, that was a pretty nice look girl. You totally didn't have to psychoanalyze her. It's no wonder your never gonna get laid." Castiel didn't speak up for his own defense, he was fine with letting Samuel think whatever he had wanted to. But before any more questions could be raised, he stood up from his seat, grabbed his wallet and laid down a couple of twenties. Then he grabbed his beer and licked his suddenly very dry lips. His eyes sought out his best friend's, clearly giving him a silent message like they had always done from time to time. They said that if he wanted to talk, that he'd be outside. One last second of eye contact, then he turned on his heel and vacated the premises. Standing outside, under the light, leaning against the wall.

His thoughts went back to his past and how it shaped him to become who he was today.

Sure, he hadn't been abused as a child, just neglected from his father. It wasn't his family who had caused him any harm. It had been a stranger which made it hard to trust people. But it seemed like the only person he had never had any qualms with trusting had been Dean. Sure, he had been weary at first, but the man's personality could disarm anyone of the walls they had worked hard to build around them. Castiel, try as hard as he can and act as tough as he does. Castiel is a victim. No, he's a survivor. Like everyone, he does have a story, for the most part, everything had been find until a year ago. It seemed like everything happened a year ago. But it was the event that altered his perception of the world, of how he viewed people. He had already been a psychologist, but he never thought about studying criminals or helping the police catch them until his encounter with Alastair. Castiel wonders to this day if he'd be here, standing there drinking a beer, just being able to breath had Dean not came in time. Dean Winchester saved him.

Dean Winchester was the reason he was still here.

Castiel had never really needed to tell him much because he already just _knew_.

If Dean hadn't reached him in time, Castiel would of been Alastair's seventh victim. The man was a demon when it came to his work that he had considered art. He had in a way been an artist with a blade. All his cuts were perfect and most of them healed. But there was two scares in particular that would never heal. They would always be a reminder of what he went through, of what he survived. Alastair had always called him an angel. Said it fit him because of his namesake. That he was going to make him into a real angel. Alastair in his own sick twisted way, had meant well. As a criminal psychologist you learn to look at things the way they saw it. Some people wanted justice like the case he solved today. Others had wanted revenge. Some thought they were doing the work for whatever deity they served. Alastair. He had his master pieces. The last victim they had found had been a woman named Ruby. Castiel didn't bother with last names, it was too hard sometimes to think of the victims as something more than bones used to catch a killer. It was hard to try not to think of them as people anymore. It never got easy, if work like Dean or himself did ever got easy.. then it was time for a reevaluation on your way of thinking. Clearly that meant something was wrong.

His scars were his main reason for his insecurity. He told most people about his opinions on one night stands, that was true. But the real reason he didn't want to get into a relationship? It was more than just not having time. It was the fact that he didn't want anyone to _see_ just how damaged he was.

His twin scars?

Perfectly shaped and crafted as wings on his back.

If Castiel thought of it as a tattoo other than it being cut by a skillful blade, he'd say the markings were in fact beautiful if just a little haunting. It was pretty detailed and even though Castiel remembers all the pain he felt, he doesn't know how he managed to make it stay after all these years. They are very faded, a mar on his skin more than anything. But they run from the shoulder blades to his hip bone. They probably did look like a really weird tattoo, but it didn't make it feel any better.

Castiel didn't think he'd ever let anyone get that close to him again. The blue eyed brunette glanced around the parking lot and suddenly got a weird vibe that he was being watched. He drank his beer once more and finished it off. He should just leave, he always soured the mood with his attitude. Maybe he should take a trip to his own slice of heaven, find some peace from all this chaos that was his life. His thoughts cut off to the sound of the door opening. It was most likely more patrons making their drunken way home. Dean had his brother after all, he didn't need someone like Castiel bringing down his day and making it worse.

After all, Dean had to witness the lifeless body of a whole family. Castiel knew Dean would need someone to talk to about that. That's definitely something that you don't or won't be able to sleep after seeing.

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><p><strong>Thoughts? Like? No? Let me know. If this is not well received, I'm not posting any more of it. So if I don't get any reviews, I'll take that as a sign you guys don't like it. No. This is not me threatening for reviews or withholding chapters like some people do. I write these stories for YOU. If you don't like it, then why bother posting it?<strong>


	2. An awkward meeting, a great future

**A/n:** This seems to happen a crap ton. I apologize again for the long hiatus I had seemed to be on. Hoping to recover from it soon. There's just so much stuff happening at work and a lot is riding on me. I bet if I can get this off without a hitch and with success... I bet I can make asst. manager before the year is up. : D

**Title:** Homicide && Psycho therapy (Winchester style)

**Rating:** T for mentions of torture.

**Pairing:** Future Destiel.

**Co-written with:** Blakely G

**He** plays Dean Winchester,** I** write for Castiel.

Since we're basically doing it role-play style. The perspective is going to change every line break.

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><p>CHAPTER TWO<p>

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><p><strong><strong>DEAN'S POV.<strong>**

The bar was full of patrons; some that were there so often they seemed to be a part of the furniture and some whose presence didn't jog anything in one's memory. There were some people that he only knew by their face, others by name, and even some by nicknames he had given them, most without their knowledge. It was a place to go when you were down on your luck and needed a pick - me - up, or when you were celebrating a good day, or even just a place to stop at after work to unwind and socialize.

The bar smelt of cigarettes and booze and it was constantly filled with chatter as men laughed over a drink or argued of a missed shot at pool. The atmosphere always seemed to be the same, it was hard to explain but it had calming feel to it but not enough that one would want to put their guard down completely. Ellen, the owner, portrayed herself as hard and unnerving but she was a very caring woman deep down, especially if you really get to know her, and she was a loyal friend. Dean had been going to this bar since he had settled down in the town, about a year after he was actually legal to drink. The fact that he had been here so long was a surprise to him honestly, but he had grown fond of the place he where lived in.

Being a Winchester, settling down in one spot always sounded like an impossible feat, since Dean and Sam had been shuffled around all across the U.S as children and teenagers with their father. It had all started when Mary, the boy's mother, died in a house fire when Dean had been four and Sam was barely a year. Actually little Sammy had been exactly six months when a fire had started in nursery he was sleeping in. John, the boy's father, had run in to see his wife had been stabbed in the stomach, Sammy crying in his crib, and the window wide open. John grabbed Sam as fast as he could and thrust him in Dean's arms, telling him to get out of the house as he tried to go back for his wife. Mary had been in the far corner of the room though and by the time John tried to get to her the room was engulfed in flames and there was no way to save her. His only option then was get out and make sure that both of his son's were safe so he gave on last look into the nursery and flew down the stairs, scooping up Dean, who was holding tightly onto Sammy, in the front yard and carrying the boy's away from any danger in the house.

He might have carried them away from the danger of the fire, but at that exact moment the boys were thrust into another kind of threat. John became obsessed with finding who had set the fire, finding the one who had killed his wife, and threw himself into the world of being a private detective of sorts. He packed his kids into his '67 Chevy Impala and began learning about similar cases and the law and things of that nature. He got a license to work as a private detective and started working any cases he could get, traveling across the country if he had to. Dean became in charge of watching over Sam at all times, and had practically raised the kid by himself. Their father would put them up in a hotel or sometimes rented a place if they were staying longer than normal and it wasn't uncommon for him to leave Dean to fend for himself and his little brother for days, or even weeks at a time. Dean stayed close to Sammy at all times, teaching his first words, watching him take his first steps, listening as he read his first book. All the while He watched John dig himself deeper and deeper into obsession and guilt about Mary.

It took him a while but John had eventually found out that the man that police had at the top of their suspect list was a sociopath who called himself Azazel. The Winchester's had known him as the 'Yellow Eyed Demon' for the longest time because the man wore contacts to distort his eye color. The eldest of the Winchester family started looking up everything he could on the man, though it wasn't much. Azazel was good at disappearing for years at a time, only to reappear and disappear once again. That's when John knew that this case was going to take a lot longer than any he had worked. He recruited his kids and began teaching them the tricks of the trade. He started drilling them on how to find a lead, how to tell if a suspect or witness is lying, and what the best databases to use were. The learned how to lie through to get information and were taught Marine drills to make sure that they could take down any suspect if needed. They knew how to use firearms and the proper technique on how to hold a knife.

All those years though, Dean had never seen his father than anything less of a hero. His father had been the one to get him interested in the police force in the first place, he was the reason Dean was working the homicide division. He felt he had to live up to what his father would want of him; he had to continue the search to take down Azazel. Sam might have rebelled every step of the way but Dean had been John 'perfect soldier', he learned to follow every order without question. It was something that had caused a rift between Sam and Dean plenty of times though they always managed to push it aside. The two were very close brothers; Dean would do anything for Sam and vice versa, just as their father had wanted. Sam had been Dean's only friend all of his life, unlike his younger brother who made friends where ever he went. That was until Dean had met Cas of course.

It had only been a year, but Dean felt he had known Cas a lot longer than that. The man might be social awkward and kind of oblivious at times, but he had a way of calming the detective down that only he and Sam knew how. The two friends had first met in an unfortunate circumstance that Dean never liked to think about but they had bonded pretty quickly and the green eyed male trusted Cas just as he trusted his brother. In fact he thought of the psychiatrist as his brother really, despite the short amount of time that they had known each other. They had been through quite a bit already, that would bond anyone he assumed. Speaking of Cas, Dean was pulled from his reminiscing of his childhood when the male answered him about the case he was working on. Dean listened to every word, nodding and staring at his friend with interest in his eyes.

"Clearly the supposed home invader did invade a home... but being a burglar would imply that he was after something of value. Yet nothing was taken. Clearly he was there on other business. How many times were these people shot? If it's more than once it was anything but out of panic or fear. He wanted them killed. If not himself, then he was there on the business of someone else. If it was personal, it's a crime of passion. Perhaps they were black mailing the suspect. It's all conclusive without some shred of evidence to go on. There are a number of possibilities but with so many anomalies, I cannot provide decent answers." Dean nodded with understanding, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his beer. The look on Cas' face told Dean that he was sorry that, that was all the information he could provide and the male clapped his hand on the other's shoulder in appreciation.

"You're right; there are a number of scenarios. Though what you said, about how many times they've been shot, it does make sense." The more and more he was thinking about it the more he was feeling that this crime was personal, and he had a feeling it had something to do with the son, Jasper. He had been shot six times, more than any of the other family members. He was also the only one who hadn't been shot in the head; he had been hit in the shoulder, back, and leg, the perpetrator leaving him to bleed out instead of killing him quickly as he had done with the mother and father. Dean needed to talk with the kid's friends to see if maybe he had fallen into something he shouldn't have, like drugs or a bad relationship.

Once again pulled from his thought's the brunette looked over at Cas as he ordered three shots of tequila. Ellen asked if he was buying a round of all of them, though something told Dean that Cas had a different idea in mind. "Those are for me, you can get them a round of whatever they want though." Dean shook his head with a smile at his friend, and downed the rest of his beer at the same time as Sam. It was a weird brother thing they did often, take drinks or bites at the same time. They never mean to do it on purpose, it just sort of happens, especially if they're not having a conversation where one could be talking while the other was eating or drinking. Sam seemed to notice as well as he sent Dean a small smile before he asked for two more beers, once for himself and for Dean. As Ellen set the drinks in front of the young brother's, green eyes wandered over to his friend, sensing the other tense beside him.

It was some blonde with big tits that Dean would have in any other situation gone after, but at this moment all he could see was her hands. She had them perched on Cas' shoulders, chirping some stupid drunk information to him. Dean could tell Cas didn't hear her, he could see how uncomfortable his friend was even if she couldn't. God, Cas remember to breath. Before Dean could speak up to the woman, whatever she said her name was, Castiel turned his head toward her. Dean couldn't see his expression but he guessed he was glaring at her and she removed her hands from the man's shoulders. He knew Sam was watching from behind him, probably wondering if Cas was going to go with her, but for the moment Dean paid no attention to his little brother. He had no idea about what Dean knew was happening, he had been sworn to secrecy after all and there was no way Dean would betray his friend's trust.

"What do you say? We get out of here?" Once again Dean tried to speak up and get the attention off his friend, tell her he was too drunk to make those kinds of decisions, but Cas had another idea in mind.

"I say that your lacking a father figure, someone that never told you how special you were. Someone that wasn't there when you needed him so you turned to what you do as a way to receive the attention from men you never got when you were a child." The look of shock on the woman's face told Dean that what Cas had said rung some sort of truth and he watched her raise a hand to hit him. She hesitated though and stormed off back to the group that she had walked in with, a group of girl's that were drunk enough for Dean to decide that they had been here too long. Sam spoke up from behind his older brother and Cas stood up with every intention of leaving the bar. Cas' eyes found Dean's and he nodded without a word, understanding what he was telling him. As the other male strode away Dean shot Sam a warning look that rivaled his father, telling him to drop it in one glanced. Sam gave him a confused 'you better explain later' look that he was so good at before he let his brother get up and follow his friend outside, making a quick stop at the woman's table first.

"I'm sorry for my friend. He gets like that when he has one too many, but I think that guy over there is lonely and looking for some company." Dean smirked, motioning his head in his brother's direction. He left before she could say anything and walked outside, shivering slightly as the cool air hit him.

Eyes scanned the area carefully, locking onto his friend who was leaning against the wall. He was looking up at the sky and seemed to be deep in thought. Dean knew what he was thinking about but he was the only other one who did. The blue eyed brunette suddenly scanned the parking lot as though he thought someone was watching him and Dean rose an eyebrow, though he chalked it up to the fact that he was actually watching him. The doors behind him opened and a group of drunk men stumbled out of the bar, laughing and talking with each other loudly. The bumped into Dean, who turned to look at them, but they paid him no mind at all. It was like he wasn't even there. Dean turned around to face his friend once again and walked over to him, leaning against the wall next to him. He didn't reach out to the male, feeling he should wait until he knew Castiel had calmed down before he made any physical contact. All he could think about was Alistair and Dean knew for a fact that that was all Cas was thinking about as well.

The air relaxed after a while though, their presence next to each other seeming to settle atmosphere around them. After a moment of comfortable silence Dean finally spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't listen to Sammy, Cas. You know him. If he isn't getting any, then he thinks no one's getting any." He chuckled and gently nudged his friend's shoulder with his own, hoping he wasn't causing any physical comfort with the touch. He pushed himself off the wall and walked a few steps in front of his friend, his hand in his pockets. He looked up at the sky for a long moment before he turned around, his expression blank. It was hard to determine what Dean was thinking when he put on his carefully constructed mask, one that hadn't let him down so far. "You look tired man. Why don't you head home? Sammy and me are going home soon too, though he might be a little busy tonight," He said, his eyes softening slightly in a way they only did for very few people, "Just call me if you need anything." He gave an understanding look and put his hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. He let his hand drop and shoved it back in his pocket, his eyes once again drifting to the sky. He hoped that Cas knew he could call him anytime of the night if he wanted to talk, the man knew that sometimes talking was the only way to overcome something, though he also knew that Castiel was much like him. They both hide there feelings until it was too much before they would think about bothering someone with their problems**.**

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><p><strong>CASTIEL'S POV.<strong>

The blue eyed man had been both right and wrong. The door swinging had given birth to both Dean and a group of patrons on their drunken way home. On the inside, Castiel was pleased that Dean had chosen to come outside with him. On the outside, he probably appeared indifferent. It was a funny thing and possibly ironic, how a psychologist who gets people to delve within themselves and show emotion...can barely show emotion himself. Though he feels he's improving and getting better. Ever since Dean came into his life... that's really when Castiel started to live. Before he was merely existing in this world... It was like Dean showed him what life really was and what it could be. It just was a shame that their meeting had been rather... _different_.

That was the nice way of putting it, anyone else would think it would be the recipe for either the closest friends ever or a doomed relationship from the get go. Though, they didn't have that sort of relationship, so perhaps it didn't matter. It most likely would of been very different had Castiel been in a woman's body. Perhaps it is a strange thought to have, but he can't get it out of his head. This isn't the first time he's had this thought... which scares him. The brunette doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to open up to strangers and get into that dating pool. So naturally, he looks to the people he already has in his life. It's a rather tide pool of people in that group, most too old or already seeing other people. The only logical choice would be Dean...yet, everyone knows how illogical that would be.

Castiel almost doesn't even want to go there. _Almost_. Yet he does, out of some pitiful hope that lies down deep below buried underneath a bunch of other feelings he doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to deal with just yet. Perhaps he isn't meant to give himself up to that special someone. Maybe that someone doesn't exist for him. Maybe all he has and all he ever will have his God. His breath comes out as a long drawn out sigh. Anyone whose heard it, knows that he's deep within thought. These thoughts that are swirling around inside, they help calm himself and lower the tense atmosphere between the two men who are standing a smidgen too close together to ever be read as something like 'acquaintances'. It gives off a special bond, anyone who looks at them will most likely see them as brothers or just close friends.

Castiel would never disagree with that, he feels something for Dean. Something far deeper than he's ever felt for anyone else in his life besides his family... but he'll write it off as a close friend/brother for now. After another moment's silence, he hears Dean gently break it. "Don't listen to Sammy, Cas. You know him. If he isn't getting any, then he thinks no one's getting any." Well in this case, no one is _getting any_to put it bluntly. Perhaps, Castiel has been picking up habits from Dean. Castiel sure isn't going to be getting any, any time soon..and Castiel thinks he's just fine with that. A chill goes through his body but he tries to remain unaffected outwardly. There's that feeling again, that someone is watching him. Castiel tries to be secretive with his scanning of the area, but knows he fails to be subtle. It was never exactly his forte.

A gentle nudge shook him from his scanning of the parking lot and he felt his heartbeat thump at the feeling of another person's _touch_. He had to remind himself quickly that it was okay. This was Dean. It was okay if Dean touched him, he was fine. He let out a shuddering breath and then the beginnings of a smile found their way to Castiel's face as he tried to reassure the other that everything was fine. "You look tired man. Why don't you head home? Sammy and me are going home soon too, though he might be a little busy tonight," Dean said and then just a fraction of emotion found it's way into Dean's eyes. They seemed to soften like they did only for a few select people during different moments.

"Just call me if you need anything." Castiel nodded solemnly, took a deep calming breath before trusting himself to speak. "Careful Dean, you might get a call at the crack of dawn with me wanting to talk about my _feelings_" Okay so Castiel just tried his hand at making a joke. Dear God, Dean Winchester was seriously rubbing off on him. But Dean did have a point and mentioned something that Castiel seemed to constantly lack..rest. One thing Castiel had always had problems with ever since the..._incident_ was sleep or lack there of. There was the tossing and turning of course and let's not forget the usual nightmares. Maybe that was one of the key reasons he never wanted to sleep with anyone. Not as in sexually but sleep period. One thing he had never done in all the one year of knowing Dean was stay over his place. Castiel had invited Dean over once or twice... let's just say, Castiel didn't even try and sleep those nights. Fear of scaring off the only close friend he's ever honestly had... it wasn't worth the risk.

"I agree, it's getting late and tomorrow I have a new case awaiting me when I get into the office in the morning. Good thing I didn't drink too much." Though it probably wouldn't have mattered if he had. It took A LOT to get Castiel tipsy let alone flat out drunk. He had a strong tolerance for the liquid he had never tried before meeting Dean. " Drive safe, I'll talk to you later." Of course at the time, he didn't think it wouldn't be that much later that he'd be talking to Dean again. Castiel was socially awkward, almost childlike in some ways. Good byes especially weren't ever his thing, with most people...he'd just walk away and practically seem to disappear. With Dean..he ended it on a comfortable yet awkward and weird probably to anyone else.

He simply laid his hand on Dean's shoulder for a short time before walking off, trench coat bellowing behind him in the slight breeze that always seemed to pick up whenever he made his exits. Almost as if he took the wind with him under his _wings_. The very ends of his trench coat making an eerie like sound of a bird's wings, then he was off towards his simple car and making his way home. The road to his humble apartment was a little ways from the bar, but he was fine on a gas. So he never worried about such things unless he was running on empty. Castiel pulled up against the curb and turned off the ignition, got outside, locked the car door. Then he took out his briefcase and made his way up the stairs, key in hand. Castiel didn't know what made him think it or rather feel it but he just knew that something was off. Something wasn't right, almost like he could sense that someone else had violated his sacred place.

He hadn't been wrong either.

For one, the door was cracked open which seemed to had a thrill for effect. Had this been a horror movie, this was the moment when the audience started paying attention. This was the important part, something that would set the tone, usually the creep factor. The moment where the character gets freaked out, that someones after them. This was unfortunately no different. Castiel entered the threshold and the first thing that caught his eyes and was most likely what was suppose to happen was the writing on the wall. It sent a chill through his entire body and he felt like he was frozen to place.

The word 'ANGEL' was thrown across the wall in what he prayed to God was red paint and not what he felt like it was. There had only ever been one person to call him Angel... but he was suppose to be in his own personal hell, was suppose to rot in there. Unless...he escaped. That was the only probability. His eyes trailed over the rest of what once had been his sanctuary and felt his heart sink. Everything was tossed and turned every which way. Some stuff destroyed, most just splayed all across the once pristine carpet. He didn't even want to go inside, fear welling up in him. What if the person that did this was still inside...waiting. He chewed the inside of his cheek, standing out there calculating the probability of whoever did this still inside the house. It was a good 45.5% that the illustrator of the scene was still here. Did he want to take the gamble and chance his luck.

Castiel had never been a gambling kind of guy. But he knew someone who was. He grabbed the cellphone that was inside his slacks and speed dialed number 1. Oh yeah, Dean was one of the few people on his list, but the only one on speed dial. Yes, it was because Dean was special... It had nothing at all to do with the fact that Castiel didn't know how to add the other numbers to speed dial. Dean had been the one to add himself on the phone.

Castiel just knew you dialed one and the only person he mainly talked to would answer. "Hello Dean... There's...a problem. I don't know exactly how to say this except that someone's broken into my home... Would it be too much trouble for you to come to my place...so I can get my stuff out of my room and find some place to stay for the time being... " Castiel wasn't the type to just come out and say. 'I'm scared shit-less, I can't do this without you, so can you come down here... so I can falsify my courage, get through this crap and get out...to a safe place.' No... he couldn't say those words that he wanted to. He exhaled, his breath shaking which exerted a large amount of emotion that he hadn't wanted to let out. He also couldn't state the obvious, that no one else would ever help him. All he had in this world was Dean Winchester.

Frankly, Castiel had a feeling that Dean would be all he'd ever need.

After he received a response on the phone, he hung up and closed the door. He didn't really think it'd do any good if someone wanted to come out and attack him. But he felt extremely odd leaving it open. Especially with that horrible word painted on his wall. Something he was not nor would he ever be. The wings on his back and his name may scream it, but Castiel was no angel.

He decided standing on his feet wouldn't do any good, so he sat down on the first step and let out a yawn. His body was screaming for sleep, but he would never be able to achieve such a thing. Especially if he was going to be staying at some weird place he wasn't used to. Especially those motel rooms. Who knows how many people have been in that room doing things before you decided to bunker down for the night. It was a rather unpleasant thought. He curled in on himself, the cold was making him shiver.

To make up for loss body heat, he wrapped the tan coat around his slim frame and tried to keep the rest of his insulation. The biggest concern that he had was the fact...where did they know where he lived? The bigger question of the bunch had to be the Who and they Why. Was it ... Alastair? Did he escape? How long had he been free? All these question were swarming his brain that he didn't even hear a familiar engine pull up to the front of the curb until the fall of footsteps came close and he flinched out of not being aware of his surroundings.

Fear really didn't do good things for the body.

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><p><strong>Read and Review please. : )<br>**


	3. Spending the night

**A/n: **OMG THIS SUCKS. The district manager is changing... it almost feels like I have to start all over again when it comes to trying to be asst. manager. But if it's the person I think it's going to be. The bright side is I met him and We're pretty cool with each other... If it is that person. Just hope I can continue to show how awesome and great I am at my job. : D**  
><strong>

**Title:** Homicide && Psycho therapy (Winchester style)

**Rating:** T for mentions of torture.

**Pairing:** Future Destiel.

**Co-written with:** Blakely G

**He** plays Dean Winchester,** I** write for Castiel.

Since we're basically doing it role-play style. The perspective is going to change every line break.

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><p>CHAPTER THREE<p>

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><p><strong><strong>DEAN'S POV.<strong>**

Have you ever tried counting the stars? Impossible and yet Dean couldn't help but try every time he looked at the night sky. It was something he had done since he was a small child, even when he was young enough to believe one hundred was the highest number possible. He remembered sitting outside of Bobby's place as a child and teenager, counting the stars and talking about the future with his younger brother. There was always an old beat up Ford they sat on, the extra space becoming smaller and smaller the older they got until Sam had to let Dean put his arm around him and he had to lay his head on his shoulder so they could scoot close enough to have room.

They always could have sat in the bed of the truck, a much roomier space, but they had laid in that spot as long as their father had been dropping them off at Bobby's and picking a new spot didn't seem like an option. The two still sat on that Ford every once and a while when they get around to visiting their old friend. They no longer lay down on it, too old and too much of an ego for the two climb on the car and snuggle close to each other just to count the stars. _'Maybe one day we'll do that again.'_Dean though absentmindedly, picking the lint in his pocket to give his hands something to do.

Twenty – eight, twenty – nine, thirty, or had he already counted that one? He thought maybe that was star fourteen but it was hard to remember which was which. Thoughts flashed through Dean's mind very quickly and constantly, they always have. It came in handy when he was going over evidence in his head or trying to go through as many scenarios that seemed likely, but sometimes it was hard for him to shut his brain off to go to sleep. He was often plagued by crime scenes playing over and over in his dreams or just trying to get to sleep presented itself as a problem.

Right now in the time Castiel had taken to answer him about calling if he needed anything he had already reminisced about counting stars and lost track of which one he was one. His gaze fell back on his friend when he spoke, giving him a grin at his answer. "Careful Dean, you might get a call at the crack of dawn with me wanting to talk about my _feelings_" The man joked, and Dean let out a small laugh. The first real laugh he had allowed himself all day. "We'll put on a chick-flick and I'll let you cry into a tub of Haagen-Dazs."Dean joked back, nudging Cas' shoulder once again. Dean had been serious about Castiel giving him a call whenever he needed to though, and they way he sobered up and gave Cas a serious look told the psychologist that without Dean having to speak.

"I agree, it's getting late and tomorrow I have a new case awaiting me when I get into the office in the morning. Good thing I didn't drink too much." Cas spoke again and Dean agreed lightly. "Yeah, I have some leads I need to follow up. I have a feeling tomorrows going to be a long day." He told the other, eyes wandering back to the stars. One, two, three, four, damn he messed up already. "Drive safe, I'll talk to you later." That got a small scoff out of the detective as he looked over at his friend. "When don't I?" He asked playfully, trying to keep a serious face but a small pulling at the corners of his mouth. Dean hadn't been known around here for his 'safe' driving habits, but rather his 'record' times he managed to make. "Be careful Cas. I'll see you later."He often told the blue-eyed male to be careful, but for some reason he had a feeling that he needed to emphasize the short sentence. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him something was off and his gut feelings were rarely wrong, but he kept his mouth shut and watched as he friend go to his car and leave with a grace Dean could only describe as angelic, though he'd never admit it out loud. He sighed and remained in the parking lot a few minutes after Cas' car had been out of view. Time to go get Sammy then head home himself.

When Dean entered the bar he immediately noticed Sam was no longer sitting on the stool he had been when older Winchester had left. Scanning the area quickly, he found his brother at the pool table, showing the blonde girl and her group of chatty friends that had bothered Cas the proper technique of shooting pool. She was giggling and flipping her hair, staring at Sam instead of watching how he was holding the pool cue. Dean smirked and rolled his eyes at the younger male, striding over to retrieve his brother.

Sam was rambling about how to aim just right to get the ball into the corner pocket when Dean approached and it was obvious Sam had had a few more drink while his brother had been away. The blonde girl perked up when she saw the detective and she began twirling her hair around her pointer finger. Sam noticed her movements and looked up, standing up straight and smiling at his brother, waving him over despite the fact that was where he was obviously going. "Your brother really knows his stuff." The blonde cooed as soon as Dean was in earshot and he shrugged lightly. "He learned from the best."He winked, watching his brother make the shot perfectly.

He let the other male have a few more seconds of glory before he spoke up. "Sorry ladies, but it's time for Sasquatch and me to head out. Maybe you could take a lesson in pool some other time." The girls pouted as Dean grabbed his brother's arm gently and started pulling him away from the table. Sam let himself get pulled away before breaking from his brother's grip and putting some money on the bar to pay for his drinks. "See you later boys."Ellen called to her friend's backs, who both raised a hand in a good bye gesture. They walked into the fresh breeze and stopped for a moment, letting the stale air from the bar wash away. They climbed into Dean's car and he started the engine, listening to the purr he had heard all his life. It was one sound he could listen to forever, it was like a child's blanket, something that made him feel safe, made him feel at home. He through the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot before throwing it in drive and heading in the direction on Sam's place.

The silence in the car was comfortable and lasted only a few moments before Sam spoke up. "So what was wrong with Cas?" He asked, hazel eyes drifting over to his brother. The male kept his eyes on the road a second longer before he shot his brother a sideways glance. "Just a long day." Was all Dean said as he returned his eyes to the road. He knew Sam wouldn't leave it at that for long, but surprisingly it was enough for the moment. Must be the drinks he had to let him be satisfied with such a vague answer. The rest of the drive was completed in silence as Dean pulled up to Sam's place. The taller male got out of the car, leaning into the window once the door was shut. "I'm going to drive to work tomorrow. I have to stay late to work on some papers." He informed his brother before bidding him good night and heading up the small driveway. Dean watched until his brother was safely inside before he pulled away from the curb and headed the short distance to his apartment.

Dean's place was small and had an odd resemblance to a motel, something that Sammy always pointed out whenever he was over. Maybe it was a subconscious thing for the older Winchester; after all he had spent most of his childhood in motel rooms. He hadn't really spent too much time decorating the place, just getting the bare necessities and in the end he had to admit it did give off a motel room vibe. It really seemed as though he was only staying here for the night, not living here but Dean was pleased with the place. It wasn't like he planned to live in the small apartment forever anyway; he had wanted to move into a house and settle down with a family but as long as he was living the single life he'd stay holed up here. The tired male set his keys and phone on his table and went over to the fridge, grabbing a beer and sat heavily on the couch. As he sighed and stretched out the phone on the table began buzzing irritably. Dean opened one eye and looked over at the phone before setting down his beer and pushing himself off the couch.

The phone lit up with Cas' name and Dean scooped it up and opened it in one swift movement. "Hello?" He had a hint of worry in his voice, the gut feeling he had had earlier coming back in a wave of nausea. He didn't know what it was that made him so nervous until Cas started talking and the man could hear the emotion hidden in the other man's usual monotone voice. "Hello Dean... There's...a problem. I don't know exactly how to say this except that someone's broken into my home... Would it be too much trouble for you to come to my place...so I can get my stuff out of my room and find some place to stay for the time being..." Dean only had a year to learn Cas' ways, but the detective could hear the fear in request and he was pulling back on his jacket and tucking his firearm into the back of his jeans before Castiel was finished speaking. "Don't go inside the room Cas. I'll be there in a second."With that the phone was snapped shut and Dean was out the door and running to his car.

His gut feeling was never wrong, he knew something bad was going to happen but he didn't do anything. What if Cas had gotten hurt, what if he still could? What if the person was still in his room waiting for him? Dean's head was showing him a hundred possibilities a minute as he sped towards his friend but now was not the time to play the blame game. He needed to get his thoughts straightened out and to examine the extend of the damage before he could start jumping to conclusions. Another speeding record was broken as Dean pulled his impala up to the curb and killed the engine. He jumped out of the car and hurried over to Cas, seeing him flinch as Dean drew nearer. "Hey Cas, you alright?"He asked, eying the male closely for any signs that he was injured. When Dean found none he walked past Cas and went up to the door that lead to the apartment in question.

Dean examined the door for any signs of it being broken into and noticed the lock appeared to have been picked, poorly he might add. He frowned slightly and pulled out gloves from his pocket to open the door with, not wanting to contaminate or destroy any evidence that might be evident. The door swung open slowly and Dean took in the room, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. The room was a mess, but it didn't look like anything had been taken, at least from what he could see. It seemed more like the person had either tried to make it look like a burglary but their main reason for being there was the writing scrawled on the wall. Dean's heart dropped when he read it and he glanced back at Cas, motioning for him to stay where he was, before going into the room slowly. He pulled out his gun as he walked the room, clearing the area before checking each of the other rooms one by one. Once everything was cleared Dean approached the wall.

Oh thank god it wasn't written in blood. Dean's face twisted with disgust none the less as he fished his phone out of his pocket. He had to call this in before they could leave. He told the operator on the other end the situation and hung up the phone, letting out a shaky sigh and rubbing the back of his neck. This wasn't supposed to be happening, the person who would have known to write that on Cas' wall was supposed to be locked up for life. Dean would have been one of the first to know if he had escaped and so far he hadn't heard anything. Maybe he had someone on the outside working for him. Walking back outside, Dean looked over at Cas apologetically. He sat down next to the male and started talking softly, looking straight out in front of him. "Once the other detectives arrive and I talk to them we can head to my place."He didn't voice his suspicions about the writing on the wall since he had a feeling Cas had the same ones and this was neither the time nor the place to talk about it. He would wait until they were safely back at his own place and had time to settle down and think clearly about what had happened before he started asking questions.

They sat in silence while they waited, Dean reaching out and gently giving Cas' shoulder a squeeze at one point. When he heard the other detectives approaching he stood and walked over to meet them, discussing quietly about what he had found and what he had not. The men took a look at the scene as well, sealing it off with crime scene tape and telling Cas he was free to settle down in a hotel until they could release the room back to him. Dean explained that he was staying with him and after a few more minutes of talking he finally told Cas it was time to go. "Sorry."He said softly as they got into the car. He didn't state what he was apologizing for, he just started his car and took off towards home.

When they arrived he took Cas to his apartment and sat down at the table motioning for Cas to take a seat too. He went to the fridge and took out two bottles of water, handing one to the other male as he sat back down. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he stifled a yawn. "We both have busy days tomorrow, what say we get some shut eye. The couch pulls out into a bed." He went over to his couch and pulled it out to make a bed, going into his room and emerging with blankets and a pillow and some clothes for Cas to sleep in. He sat the stuff down on it and went into his room. He left the door open as he took off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. He stepped into the bathroom and dressed in a plain white shirt for his pajama top and pulled on black pajama pants before returning and heading to the doorway and leaning against it. "I'll have your room back to you in no time Cas." He told him encouragingly.

Once everyone was settled Dean lay down in his bed, having insisted he leave the door to his room open just in case. The male closed his eyes, expecting to lie awake for a while before falling asleep but sleep took him as soon as his head hit the pillow. He began dreaming what felt like in an instant, his mind filling with the images of the case he was working on, of the kid shot and in pain, bleeding out and dying on top of his little brother. Suddenly it was him and Sam when they were that age, and he was hearing Sammy cry out his name and beg him to wake up, but he couldn't get his limbs to move. Pain was shooting through him and he wanted nothing more than to comfort his brother but when he opened his mouth nothing but ragged breaths came out. The images changed again and now it was Sammy dying on top of him. Oh god, he was supposed to protect Sam and instead he was letting him die right in front of him. Dean managed to move his brother and sit up but when he looked around he wasn't in the room he was before. He was now in the place where he had found Cas, Alistair was standing at the far wall laughing loudly and writing 'Angel' on the wall in blood. Blood. His blood? No, it was Cas' blood. Cas' body lay on the floor, blue eyes staring sightlessly in Dean's direction, blaming him for not reaching him in time.

Dean sat up straight, breathing heavy and looking around frantically, clearly unaware where he was. He was seeing the room that Cas was held in still, not completely awake from his dream state yet. His chest heaved and eyes darted around wildly until he took in his surroundings, slowly realizing he was in his room and it was all just a dream. He ran a hand through his hair, realizing he was covered in sweat and shaking. The brunette breathed deep and even, trying to be as quiet as he could when he remembered Cas was sleeping a few feet away. He lay back down as he hoped he didn't wake his friend and he turned to face the wall, knowing he wasn't going to get to sleep again anytime soon.

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><p><strong>CASTIEL'S POV.<strong>

"Hey Cas, you alright?"

To be honest, he didn't even hear Dean utter these words. He heard his voice but the words didn't register, he felt himself nod silently. His body working without his mind, going on auto-pilot. He had only did this once before, the event that led to this now. He'd snap out of it soon. For now, he stared blankly at the cemented ground, hearing Dean's footsteps leave him and go inside the place to make sure that there was no one inside. Castiel almost stood up and pleaded with him to tell him not to go in there. Because let's be honest, what if there _was _still someone inside there. The last thing Castiel needed was Dean getting hurt or worse, dead. You couldn't fix someone when they were dead. But Castiel stopped himself, Dean wouldn't want to be treated like a child. He hated it enough when Bobby or Sam told him things.

Castiel didn't want to be lumped in that group that didn't think Dean was strong enough for certain things. If anything, Dean was the strongest out of everyone. Especially with what he had to go through. It amazed Castiel on how Dean could face such horrors and still joke around with everyone like it didn't affect him. But Castiel knew... He knew it did, Dean most likely suffered nightmares like Castiel did. It was one of those things that were inevitable when you didn't have someone there for you to make them go away. To make everything better when you woke up.

"Once the other detectives arrive and I talk to them we can head to my place."

"Dean, you don't have to.. I- Thank you." Castiel relented because let's face it. Dean Winchester wasn't a rock that could be easily moved once he set his mind to something. Castiel hadn't been thinking too clearly, that and the shock of finding his safe haven in such a state made him feel like his head was in a tunnel. He had just followed Dean towards his car instead of at least bringing a chance of clothes for the night let alone tomorrow's day. Had Castiel been lying to Dean about having to work a new case tomorrow? Sort of. More like a white lie which wasn't really lying. Sam had taught him that sometimes to protect people from certain things that you don't think is good of them to know.

You just skirt around the truth or tell them what they want to hear. Castiel wasn't fond of doing it, especially to Dean after everything he had done to him. But.. this was something Castiel needed to do for himself... Dean probably wouldn't understand. So WHAT was Castiel planning for tomorrow? It was technically his day off, which meant that if anyone stopped by his office..he wouldn't be there. Instead he was going to search for his father. The blue eyed male needed answers. He needed to know if it was his fault for his father leaving like he felt it was.

Anna didn't want him to, neither did Gabriel. They wished for Castiel to remain in the dark. But perhaps they were doing it for him, so his feelings weren't going to be hurt. But the dark haired man wasn't a child anymore. They couldn't always shelter him from what they thought wasn't good for him. The only one that had his back for no matter what he did. The one who wanted him to be happy regardless of what caused the elation, was the one that had taken the role of Castiel's father. Michael. His oldest brother was the one that dropped him off at school and made sure he always had a lunch for school. Now he was twenty eight, he was certainly not a child anymore and didn't require any coddling. He just... need to _know_. "Sorry." Anybody else that wasn't in Castiel's shoes would wonder what Dean was apologizing for.

Even Castiel wasn't exactly too sure. But if he had to make an estimated guess, he'd gamble and put his money on the fact that whoever broke in and wrote that obscene word on his wall...the fact that they even got there for one let alone were connected to the events that took place a little over a year ago. Wither it be Alastair or one of his apprentices he had always blabbed about having. Regardless, it was connected to the case that led to Dean finding Castiel and ultimately saving him. Perhaps he felt guilty for the possibility of them getting to Castiel or worse... the one who did it broke out and escaped. "You know it is not your fault, don't you dare apologize.. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Castiel spoke softly, the seriousness of his words hanging thick in the air. But it wasn't filled with tension, it was the opposite if anything. The blue eyed man let it go as his gaze turned towards the window.

The drive to Dean's was silent but not uncomfortable. If anything, both men were lost in their thoughts. Castiel was wondering just what he had done to deserve something like this happening. Was he being punished for something? Why were these demons after him. He assumed more than one, because one thing Alastair didn't do was operate alone. Alastair probably had more than two apprentices. But one thing was for sure, the man that tortured him did have at least _one_ person working with him. How did he know? Castiel saw her, met her and was also played with. She liked to call it playing...real people think differently though. If anything, sometimes she seemed worse than her master. Her name had been Meg, Castiel never got her last name thus making it pointless to mention her name to the authorities at the time.

But now... Now he thinks he should of. Because what if it was Meg that wanted to play with the angel again? What if Alastair was still behind bars? It was almost all too much to think about... He'd have more time to dwell on it, for now... he had other matters to worry about. They arrived at Dean's one bedroom apartment, Castiel in tow. Once they were inside they sat at the table for a moment, each getting a water bottle. Castiel downed about half of it before Dean spoke again "We both have busy days tomorrow, what say we get some shut eye. The couch pulls out into a bed." He watched as the younger male pulled out the couch into a make shift bed. It didn't look too comfortable but it wasn't like Castiel was actually expecting to get any sleep to begin with. One thing the black haired male hadn't been expecting was for Dean to bring out some of his own clothes for Castiel to change in to.

This had a smile tugging at his lips gingerly. Castiel saw Dean disappear once more only to appear in his night ware leaning against the doorway. The blue eyed male titled his head in his usual manner, watching Dean curiously as he spoke once more. "I'll have your room back to you in no time Cas." All Castiel could do was nod at Dean's encouragement and hope for the best. Then Dean disappeared in his own room, one thing Castiel noticed was the fact that the younger man had left the door open. Interesting...

Sleep.

Yeah, that wasn't on the agenda for tonight. Castiel thought to himself as his eyes rested towards the couch that would soon become his bed that he knew he wouldn't be getting any rest on. He didn't doubt it's comfort. No, he just knew he couldn't let himself sleep. Fear of waking up screaming to the memories that haunted him. Memories or just very twisted nightmares. The night terrors, where Dean didn't storm in and save him... the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and this would probably had happened had his savior not come through for him. It was a frightening thought. But he didn't let that stop him into giving the illusion that he would be sleeping, he had seen Dean get dressed for his sleep ware.

Castiel hadn't even thought about getting clothes. He'd have to stop by his home for a change of clothes before heading into work. Castiel figured he might as well get comfortable even thought sleep would never come. Especially since Dean provided him with some clothes to change into. He loosened his tie and undid it, slowly drawing it from the confines of the button down's collar. Then unbuttoned the collar shirt, folding it neatly to the side on the floor and then placed the normal plain t-shirt over his slim frame. The shirt was a bit big around the shoulders and the waist length since Castiel was slimmer and a couple of inches shorter. But it fit rather comfortably. Next he forgone his slacks and went with the sweats. Again, it was big on him but not too much. It just hung a little low due to his lack of hips. Despite his hesitancy of even going to sleep, he let out a tired yawn. Afterwards, he tried to get comfortable and to his dismay...fell asleep shortly after.

_Dean..._

Please... Dean..

H-help me...

He was trapped, he was tied down..the knife was cutting down deeper. The wings that had let the air sting them were forsaken, now his tormentor had moved on to the rest of his body. Starting with his arms and now moving to his legs. A scream broke out from the usual panting, that one had hurt like a bitch! _Dean..._ Dean was the only one that could save him, the only one that could help him... but where was he? Castiel hadn't realized that beneath all the screaming and whimpering from the pain. He hadn't realized he had whispered those words. The cutting had stopped and an all too familiar laugh rang through and cut past the pain and into his heart. He knew that laugh anywhere, the next words just practically killed him.

'_I'm right here Cas._' The person behind the blade hadn't been Alastair, it had been Dean.

"NO!" Once he shot up out of bed, he gazed around at the unfamiliar surroundings and then recalled the events. shit. He fell asleep. He didn't recall being that tired... then again, he had pulled an all nighter last night. Sometimes his body just needed the rest and the rest of his mind gave in and rested too... sort of. If you called constant nightmares rest. Castiel glanced over towards the microwave clock and fought a fit of unease. He had only been asleep for thirty minutes. Better thirty minutes than nothing at all...right? He needed to see, just to make sure...

It was strange and if anyone saw him, they'd freak out. Why? Because standing there in the doorway watching.. All Castiel was doing was trying to remember the fact that all that had happened had been nothing more than a dream. Dean was here, and good... Dean was a righteous man if Castiel ever saw one despite what anyone told him. His thoughts were broken by seeing Dean's sleeping form go from content to something dark. It was clear he was having a nightmare. Castiel was torn, he didn't know if he'd be over stepping his boundaries by waking Dean up or not. Castiel didn't get much time to himself to make the decision, it was made for him. As a pro of witnessing distress, it was clear that Dean would be waking up in a short moment. Castiel faded away into the darkness, He'd approach Dean and make sure he was fine once he awoke.

It didn't take long, after a few moments and some slight hesitation on Castiel's part, he knocked on Dean's open door softly. The last thing he wanted was to knock too loud and spook the other man. "Trouble sleeping? Join the club." He tried to joke with the moment, but it felt a little dry. Then again, Castiel had never been good with jokes, that was Dean's forte when it came to coping. Castiel didn't stand there in the doorway for very long before he made his way in the darkness easily.

Almost as if he could see in the darkness, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned to face Dean before speaking lowly. He avoided looking Dean into the eyes, which was something he very rarely ever did. "You know you can tell me whatever is going on if you need to...as a friend not a shrink. I know not to do that with you. It's just.. I know it's hard. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I... Look at me, a psychologist who can't even deal with his own problems in his head. I have a confession to make Dean... I mean I'm pretty sure it's obvious at times and you just don't say anything.

But I haven't been sleeping very well since... I don't think I can take it anymore." There was so much more he didn't say..wither it was because he just couldn't or didn't know how. After all, when it came to expressing himself, look at who was his role model. Castiel had never really been great at expressing himself to begin with. But when it came to talking to the only person he could turn to that didn't like to talk about feelings. It made things much more difficult. Summoning courage and despite feeling so very weak, he glanced over towards Dean, catching his eyes. He placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and spoke once more.

"Your not alone." In his suffering? Maybe... but Castiel just meant that Dean wasn't alone period. Castiel could read people easily most of the time, but when it came to Dean... Dean was like the Da Vinci code. To most people Dean appeared to be easy to understand or please. But Castiel knew the man underneath all the false bravado and charm. He knew how much Dean was hurting despite the smile on his face. He just never could say it or bring it to light because he knew Dean didn't want to feel like he was burdening anyone with what he was going through.

"There's also another thing I should of told someone...I shouldn't have kept it from the police for so long.. I just didn't think it'd really matter but after tonight... Alastair wasn't the only one there.. There were others. The only name I know was Meg..." Anyone who somehow got lucky and managed to see Castiel's body {the rare and the few} would see the main attraction on his back. But he had a bunch of little scars littered all over his body. Most almost invisible due to how much they healed and faded. But there were a lot of little faded pale lines on his arms, legs and chest the most. That was all Meg. She liked to make the little cuts... you know the ones that hurt the most. She loved hearing him scream...

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><p><strong>Read and Review please. : )<br>**


	4. Nightmares, Dreams and Reality

**A/n: Well, I apologize for the lack of updates periods besides that super short drabble I posted. **My writing partner had a lot of stuff going on and then got really sick. But he's fine now and finished his part so now I'm able to post this new chapter up with my part as well. I have been a bit busy myself, so much stuff to do and not enough time to do it. I'm hoping to get back seriously into writing these stories and having updates more consistently and being able to finish some of them for you guys. **I'm seriously sorry again for the long delays. Much love my readers.  
><strong>

**Title:** Homicide && Psycho therapy (Winchester style)

**Rating:** T for mentions of crime scenes and nightmares.

**Pairing:** Future Destiel.

**Co-written with:** Blakely G

**He** plays Dean Winchester,** I** write for Castiel.

Since we're basically doing it role-play style. The perspective is going to change every line break.

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><p>CHAPTER FOUR<p>

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><p><strong><strong>DEAN'S POV.<strong>**

Working the homicide division, nightmares just came with the territory. He expected them and he often found himself asking 'who wouldn't honestly?' Going to scene after grisly scene, looking at the traumatized, the mutilated, the lifeless. Having to go up to the loved ones of the person who was murder, one after another which the same mantra for them. 'I'm so sorry for your loss. We're doing everything we can. We'll catch who did this.' The open cases, the unsolved, those ones haunt him the most. He can still see their eyes digging into his own; there was a pleading in their lifeless orbs for justice that he couldn't deliver yet. The cases that he still kept on his desk and that he still read through and look over any chance he got were the ones that often had him waking the night breathless and shaking. He couldn't give up on them, he never would and maybe the persistence in which he held on to those cases is why they haunted him so often.

The nightmare he had just woken up from though, this one was different. It had the details of the current case he was working but not in the usual fashion that they normally did. Sam was involved, dying on top of him and that was something that shook him to the core. Sammy was his little brother and it was his job to keep him safe so seeing him like that made the male's stomach knot up and do somersaults at the same time. Sammy was all he had left in his family, his mother was gone, his father was gone, he had no one else but his brother and if he was gone Dean didn't think he'd be able to push on anymore. Family had always been the center of Dean's world and his father had made sure of it.

He could still remember being eight years old and sitting in an old motel room on his bed just watching his brother sleep despite how late it was. He just had to make sure he was still there, still alright, still breathing. His father had trusted him with the life of Sam while he was out saving people and Dean was going to make sure he was going to do the best job he could. Now Sam lived on his own and Dean had no way of watching him like a hawk. He remembered being twelve and his father teaching how to drive just in case of an emergency, meaning only if Sam or his father was dying and he had no other way to get them to a hospital. Now Sam had his own means of saving himself, he knew how to drive and he had his own phone. He remembered being sixteen and pouring over cases with his father and brother, treating it as his family bonding time. Now the only family bonding time Dean had was when he managed to have the same day off as Sam or after work when they went to the bar.

It was almost a useless feeling he often bore and he wished he could just push it aside. It made him feel weak and unable to do his job and goddammit all he wanted to do was be able to help people. How was he supposed to help people when he felt like he couldn't help himself? Easy, he just put on a mask, built up a wall and smiled like everything was normal. He laughed and joked as though nothing ever bothered him, like nothing was different despite how much each case was digging into his shoulders and weighing him down. His brother tried to confront him about it many times but Dean couldn't open up to him. He didn't want to. He loved his brother but there was something about Sam that made Dean feel that whatever he told him would be taken out of context, made more of a big deal then it should have been. Sammy had always been like that.

There was one person though, one that the young detective wasn't afraid to talk to once and a while, just to get things off his chest. He could open up to him and know he wouldn't be scrutinized, or babied, or judged and he hoped the other person felt the same as well. Had he really only known Cas for a year? Man it seemed like so much longer, maybe that was a sign of their friendship. He felt comfortable with the blue eyed male, he gave off this air of understanding and it was one of the only times Dean felt it was okay to let his walls down. Even if it was just for the moment.

The nightmare flashed in front of Dean again, this time focusing n Cas' body lying on the floor. The accusation in his eyes stung and forced the man to suck in a breath of air. If he hadn't been able to get there in time, there would be no way to forgive himself. There would be no excuses, no 'sorry's, no 'I did everything I could's. He had reached Cas in time though, he was alright, he was fine, and he was here. He was here…

"Trouble sleeping? Join the club."Dear God, Dean almost jumped out of his skin, sitting up quickly to look at the man who appeared in his doorway as it forming from the shadows.

"God Cas, don't sneak up on me like that!"The tone was nervous, but joking as Dean ran a hand over his tired face, absentmindedly wondering what time it was.

The other male made his way over to the bed easily in the dark and Dean watched with slight amusement. He liked the fact that Castiel was comfortable enough to just walk into his room and even sit on the bed with him. The mattress shifted as Cas sat and Dean pulled his legs over the side of the bed to sit next to him, turning his head to the side to face him. When Green eyes didn't meet blue an eyebrow rose in question. Cas wasn't one to not make eye contact, something was up. Why was Cas up anyway, he should be sleeping he said he had a long day ahead of him. When Dean started to speak Cas did as well so he shut his mouth and let the other proceed, listening carefully to what he had to say. He had a feeling whatever Castiel wanted to say was going to be important and in turn, it was going to be a long night, so he leaned back against the wall casually, though his eyes never broke contact. He wanted the other to know he was listening and that he wanted to hear what the other had to say.

"You know you can tell me whatever is going on if you need to...as a friend not a shrink. I know not to do that with you. It's just.. I know it's hard. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I... Look at me, a psychologist who can't even deal with his own problems in his head. I have a confession to make Dean... I mean I'm pretty sure it's obvious at times and you just don't say anything. But I haven't been sleeping very well since... I don't think I can take it anymore."

Dean leaned forward gently, his eyes soft. It was obvious; Cas looked like he hadn't slept in days. Hell, Dean probably looked the same in all honesty. When had he had a good night sleep? But that last sentence Cas spoke, how he didn't think he could take it anymore, made Dean want to jump up and demand they deal with it. He wasn't going to let Cas give up on himself, not after all they've, he's, been through. They've? It sounded so right in Dean's head; he sure as hell hoped Cas felt as though it was both of them, that he wasn't alone. There was no way Dean would let his friend go through this alone. A hand was on his shoulder and Dean looked back up again at his friend.

"Your not alone." Had he just read his mind? Man, it sure seemed like it.

"Cas, you need to listen to me. You aren't alone either. In any of this. You have to know I'm here and I'll listen to what you have to say. I might not be the best at this kind of stuff, hell neither of us are, but sometimes it feels the only person I have to talk to is you. You are the only person I feel wont judge me, and damn if I sound sappy, but if you feel that I'm the only one you have too at least one is better than nothing."Where the hell did that come from? Since when was he mister sappy? Since his best friend's sanity was on the line he guessed.

Green eyes held only seriousness and understanding and left no room for argument. If Castiel liked it or not Dean was there for him and he was going to make sure the other was alright. It was just how Dean was, how he was raised to be. Nothing was going to change that about him, it was hardwired into his brain, family before yourself.

"There's also another thing I should of told someone...I shouldn't have kept it from the police for so long.. I just didn't think it'd really matter but after tonight... Alastair wasn't the only one there.. There were others. The only name I know was Meg..."

What? Dean was sitting up straight and was at full attention by the time Cas had finished, a look of disbelief on his face. How the hell could Cas had kept them from him? How could he have thought that wasn't important? Another person was out, had been out there the whole time and Dean had no idea. The person, Meg as Castiel had called her, could have been watching Cas this whole time. She could have just been waiting for the right moment, one where Dean wasn't there to save the day this time. Anger was starting to boil in the pit of Dean's stomach and he got out of bed, pacing the floor in an agitated manner. He stopped and faced Cas for a second before beginning to pace again, hands thrown in the air. He stopped once again and pointed a finger in the man on the bed's direction, eyes filled more with troubled concerned then ager. Although that fact might have been hard to see in the dull lighting of his bedroom.

"Why didn't you say this before? What if they have been watching you? I want to have full surveillance put on you. What if they tried something when I wasn't around? I didn't know about them, there would have been no way for me to predict someone else was after you!"His tone was accusing and worried and loud as he stood in front of his friend, his stomach once again in knots.

First thing tomorrow he was taking Castiel in the precinct so he could give a full statement and description of Meg while Dean was going to see if he could get surveillance put on the smaller male. He wasn't going to let Castiel out of his sight, especially after the ransack of his apartment. It couldn't have been a coincidence, the letters on the wall and what Alistair had called Cas, no one but the people closest to the case knew about it. Dean leaned tiredly against the wall, the sudden surge of fear and adrenaline gone and the familiar exhaustion washing over him. He ran a hand over his face and debated whether or not he could do anything about the situation tonight. Nothing but hound Cas about not telling him and he really wasn't in the mood to do so, he snapped at him enough for now.

"We'll deal with this in the morning Cas. I'm going to take you to the precinct to give a statement about Meg and the connection to your case, no if ands or buts."Dean stated sternly, walking back over to his bed and sitting down. He put his hand on Cas' shoulder like the other had done to him earlier and gave it a soft squeeze. He knew neither of them were going to be getting any more sleep for a while and he couldn't just send Cas out back into the living room so he could lie in bed and stare at the wall. Looks like it was time for a late night movie and a beer.

Dean stood up and motioned for Cas to follow him, making his way into the living room. He flicked on the light in the small kitchen and blinked widely, trying to adjust to the light. He pulled open the fridge and removed two beers, shoving on in Cas' hand, and walked over to the fold - out - couch. He moved the blankets and pillows aside and flopped down, practically lying down as he grabbed the remote. He sat on the side closest to the door and patted the couch next to him for Cas to join him.

"What do you want to watch? Comedy or action?" He asked, flipping through the channels. Anything that'll help him fall asleep, even if it was out here on the couch. He'd feel better sleeping out here anyway, just in case that bitch came and tried anything, though he doubted it. It seemed like the thing in the apartment was just to taunt them, as though to say they were still around and still watching but watching was all Dean suspected they'd do for a while. Unless Alistair was out. Shaking his head, Dean settled on an old action movie Sam and him watched a million times as a kid when Dean would let them stay up later than usual.

He got himself more comfortable against the couch and open his beer, bringing it lazily to his lips but not taking a drink. He leaned down and set it on the floor, grabbing one of the pillows and putting it behind his head before leaning back again. He wasn't sure how long he actually watched the movie but before he knew it his eyes were closed and he let himself drift into a light sleep, soft snores filling the room. He was blessed with a dreamless slumber for a while until images once again began flowing through his head, making him toss and turn lightly as he slept. They were hazy, unfocused, unlike the vivid images of last time. It was like he couldn't get close enough to focus or like he was looking through a camera with a smudged lens. The images were sporadic, they filtered through his mind like a movie who's scenes where out of order and in his dream he couldn't process them. None were making sense; he didn't recognize anyone, until Cas popped up suddenly with large, sad eyes.

The image woke him up but he remained lying with his eyes closed, listening intently. The TV still played softly in the background and his neck ached dully, meaning he had been in the position for a while. He wanted to check what time it was but just ended up drifting to sleep again, deciding five more minutes wouldn't hurt. Whoa, hey Dean focus. You need to get to the station; you have leads to follow and Cas to take care of. With a soft groan the male sat up and opened his eyes tiredly, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. Four A.M and yet he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep. He stood up and stretched silently, softly padding into his room and grabbing his clothes, wondering if Cas needed clothes or if they were going to let him back in his room to get some stuff. He'd find out when the other woke up, but for now he was going to take a shower.

His bathroom was small, but it worked and had hot water so he didn't care. He stripped of his pajamas and stepped into the shower and let the water wash over him, rinsing off the bad night's sleep and working out how he was going to question Aaron, the only living victim in the homicide case he was working. He was in shock and not talking yesterday but Dean needed him to open up, he was their only witness at the moment, their only chance at a lead and Dean wanted to know everything the young man remembered. He had to have heard something, the intruder talk, or the way he walked, or even how he breathed. Was it heavy, raspy, light? Did he walk with a limp? Smoothly? Did he speak at all? Everything and anything was important if Dean had any chance of catching this guy.

If there was a chance at all. He left nothing behind, the murder was thought and carefully planned ahead of time, Dean could tell. The more and more he thought about it the less likely his first theory of it involving Jasper seemed. If it was drug related, they would have taken something valuable in the house to sell or pawn to get the money they were owed and probably more. Not many drug crimes are ever thought out so thoroughly and executed so perfectly, being doped up on drugs doesn't leave much room for perfect. Of course he'd have to wait until the toxicology report came back from the coroner to properly rule out that the kid had drugs in his system, but dean was making a bet that he didn't.

Then his other theory, about the kid being caught up in a bad relationship. Crimes of passion, those are usually intimate and very violent. The killer usually chooses a knife or something of that nature so they can get close to their victim and it is often a spur of the moment crime. Jasper was shot from the doorway, like the attacker didn't want to get near them, but that could suggest a murder for hire. Though killing the rest of the family threw that off. The person would only go after Jasper, wouldn't they? Maybe, or maybe they're trying to throw him off their scent. Dean smirked and shook his head. That never works, Dean is damn good at his job and he'll find out what happened. He's going to make sure of it on this case.

The water from the shower was turned off and Dean stepped out, grabbing a towel. He should wake Cas up, if he wasn't up already that is. As soon as Dean was dressed and had a cup of coffee in him they were leaving to the precinct, Cas needed to give his statement and probably answer some questions and Dean needed to get surveillance put on the blue eyed male before starting up his case again. The male rubbed the towel against his hair before he wrapped it around his waist and headed out of the bathroom. Riffling through his drawers the young man pulled out some clothes that he thought might fit his friend and he headed to the door of his room. He stood in the doorway, one hand on the towel to keep it in place on his hips and the other that held the clothes resting on the door frame.

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine. Time to get up and get going." He smirked, any reminisce of the seriousness he held yesterday were gone, replaced with that familiar wall that he had so finely constructed over so many years. Cas could see right through it, he could see how tired he was, how worried he really was and Dean knew it but that didn't wipe the smirk off his face. "Here are some clothes for you. We'll swing by your place later to pick up your stuff but those will do for now."

The clothes were tossed in the direction of the couch Cas and Dean had crashed on that night and the barely clad man turned to go dress himself. He dropped the towel and pulled on his boxers, along with the usual jeans, t-shirt, jacket, and boots. After looking down at the towel for a moment the green eyed male decided he could leave it where it was for now, he'd get it when he got home. Sammy probably would have picked it up and made some snarky comment about how he was a slob or something. Sam had no room to talk, he was a disaster as a kid; everywhere he went he left a mess. Dean spent hours following the kid around and cleaning up after him. He never told him that, he'd just smirk and tell Sam that he'd make a good housewife one day.

"Want a cup of coffee?" Dean walked into the kitchen and pressed the button on his old coffeepot, listening to it perk slowly. Man, there was nothing like the smell of coffee in the morning. Glancing at the clock Dean raised an eyebrow and looked down at the coffee. "I'll put this in a travel mug or something; we'll drink it on the way there."

He knew Sammy had given him some of those travel mugs a while back. All he had to do was find them.

- TIME SKIP TO THE PRECINCT-

There seemed to be a pattern with Dean and Cas' car rides, they were always silent. This one was about as comfortable as it could be with the conversation they had last night hanging above their heads. Dean kept glancing over at his friend, obviously deep in thought. He had to figure out a way for the chief to let Dean put Cas under surveillance, but hey it was stated before that Dean was known for being able to charm his way in and out of sticky situations.

Dean whipped into his parking space at the precinct and shut off the engine, looking over at Cas with a small smirk. He wasn't sure why, maybe to make Cas feel more comfortable. Hell, it was probably to make himself feel better. Dean opened his door and got out of the car, slamming it shut as he waited for Cas to do the same. "Alright Cas, let's get this over with."

The two made their way inside and Dean brought his friend over to the officer that had been in charge of Cas' case the first time around.

"Castiel, good to see you again. I heard about your apartment, everything alright?"The man asked, running a large hand over and equally large mustache.

"He has information on his case; I brought him in to give you guys the run through of it."Dean told him, placing a hand on the small of Cas' back and gently pushing him closer to the officer.

"Does this have to do with the writing on the wall of the apartment?" The officer asked, face going completely serious as he glanced between Castiel and Dean.

"Yeah, I'll let him tell you, I have to go talk to someone."Dean gave his friend a reassuring clap on the shoulder and a small smile before he headed off to his chief's office.

He rapped lightly on the door and waited until he heard of gruff voice telling him to come inside. When he opened the door he was met with the sight of an older man who held a smile on his face. He had been working homicide almost as long as Dean had been alive and was known to be rough around the edges. That is of course unless you get on his good side and Dean had somehow managed that. Despite his habit of doing things a little unconventionally the chief seemed to have a soft spot for the younger male and always held in him high regard.

"Winchester! What can I do for you?"The man asked, motioning for Dean to take a seat.

"Morning sir. I need a favor."God, how many times has he said that to this man? Enough to count on two hands, and he was running out of fingers.

"What kind of favor Winchester? If you think I'm going to be lenient on you if you decided to spend a little extra time 'questioning a witness' again…"The man stopped when Dean shook his head, a wide smile on his face.

"No, no it's not like that. She was a looker though, wasn't she?" He laughed lightly at the smile on the older man's face and he shook his head again, "No I need surveillance put on a friend of mine."

The chief's face dropped into a serious look and he shook his head a little harder then he needed to.** "**You know this area is short on officers Mr. Winchester. I can't just be putting surveillance on anyone because you want me to."He said sternly, eying the young man in front of him.

"Sir, he is in real danger, I know it. Castiel needs someone watching him to make sure-" Dean cut off when his superior spoke up quickly.

"I know that you and Mr. Novak are close Mr. Winchester, but if you want surveillance put on your boyfriend I suggest you do it yourself. I have no men to spare for this. He is a psychologist right? Take him with you when you go speak with the Morris boy. Now have a good day and get to work."There was no room for argument in the man's voice and Dean stood up with a curt nod.

He left the office without a word and headed to his desk to grab the case file. As soon as Castiel was done giving the officer all the information he had the two were going to head to the hospital. If the chief wanted him on Cas' surveillance duty then he sure as hell was going to take the offer. The boyfriend remark was going to be ignored and not spoken of, especially to Sammy. The kid seemed to have it hardwired into his brain to make comments like that. Yeah, Dean and Castiel were close but Dean only saw the other male as a brother, nothing more than that. Right?

Right. Dean began rereading the case file to get his mind off of it before heading over to the room where he knew Cas was being questioned. He knocked on the door a few times and stepped back as the larger officer swung it open.

"Once your done I need Castiel. We have a witness in another case to question." Dean told the officer, waving the manila folder in his hand as he spoke. The officer nodded and told him they were almost through, shutting the door and continuing his talk with the blue eyed man.

Dean found a seat by the room and sat down, opening the case file and going through it once again, making sure he didn't miss anything before he went to question the only survivor as he waited for Cas to finish.

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><p><strong>CASTIEL'S POV.<strong>

As soon as he said it, he kind of regretted it. Castiel knew Dean would react this way. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like the burden of knowing that there were others out there that had done this. Had hurt him, had hurt other people were still out there. He sagged under the relief of not hiding it under more. But he couldn't fully relax, Dean was getting angry. Castiel could feel the wrath rolling off of the other in waves. It warmed him that someone cared about what happened to him but it also scared him. He wasn't used to seeing such heated emotions from people he cared about. Criminals, sure. They got angry, they got flustered, they got scared and sometimes they even cried.

But criminals are so very different from the ones you care about that are in your life. The ones that can and will eventually leave their mark in your life. Leave their impact on your soul. "Why didn't you say this before? What if they have been watching you? I want to have full surveillance put on you. What if they tried something when I wasn't around? I didn't know about them, there would have been no way for me to predict someone else was after you!" Castiel wanted to reject the idea of someone else actually watching him. It was bad enough that someone probably was watching him, the feeling very rarely ever left. But having that uneasy feeling and just _knowing_ he was being watched, even if it was by one of the _good guys_. It made him ill. How would you feel if someone you didn't trust or even know was watching you twenty four seven? Probably the same as Castiel just thinking about it.

"We'll deal with this in the morning Cas. I'm going to take you to the precinct to give a statement about Meg and the connection to your case, no ifs, ands or buts." Castiel felt the bed dip under Dean's weight as he settled beside him. Then he did something that Castiel had done earlier to comfort Dean. It seemed the younger man was returning the favor. He placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It sent tingles shooting throughout his body, he sent Dean a soft gaze and then watched him get back up and motion for him to follow. Like Castiel always did, he followed Dean as if he were an obedient puppy. The brunette never took his eyes off of the blonde, watching him move towards the fridge and take out a couple of beers. He practically shoved one in Castiel's hand. Probably still angry, but he let it go and instead cracked open the beer. He had never been very fond of alcoholic beverages until Dean Winchester came into his life. He took a large gulp, letting the bitter liquid rush down his throat, refreshing him. He followed Dean towards the couch and sat down. One thing Castiel didn't seem to know or even recognize was boundaries or personal space when it came to Dean. Maybe he did and just didn't care. It was something he himself didn't even really care to look into or bring himself to care enough about it. He didn't like other people near him or touching but with Dean...it was just different.

"What do you want to watch? Comedy or action?" The question caught him slightly off guard. Usually Dean just put on whatever he wanted to watch and Castiel mindlessly watched whatever he flicked the channel to. Castiel was never much of a television watcher much less movies. Dean had educated him in the past about what great movies were and was showed such things. Castiel's voice was low as he watched the t.v. power on. "You know I don't really ever care... but I don't think I could laugh if I tried right now."

He was too mentally exhausted to even try to find an ounce of humor in anything. Nothing was funny right now, not the situation they found themselves in. Nor the conflicting feelings that were always cycling in Castiel's mind and heart. So Dean settled on an action flick of stuff exploding, bullets flying and impossible stunts going off. Castiel felt Dean fall asleep shortly after. Castiel brought the beer to his lips and finished it off, placing the bottle on the floor before snuggling on the couch, trying to find comfort. They didn't have blankets and really, that was Castiel's only excuse when he found his comfort in snuggling close to Dean to absorb his body heat. Then he drifted off, though the closeness was probably the clause of his dreams that night.

A sleepless dream would of been a mercy.

Which was something that Fate didn't feel like granting the blue eyed man that was currently looking very cozy sleeping against his best friend. No, but thankfully his dreams weren't nightmares filled with memories he couldn't handle. Instead they were filled with fantasies and desires he could never act on. Sometimes, Castiel wondered to himself, were the nightmares really the worst? Or were the other kind of dreams far more evil? The dreams that came often when the cop was on his mind before he drifted off to sleep. The ones were he acted on hidden desires that even he didn't realize he felt all the time. The ones were he invited Dean into his bed. The ones where Dean either claimed him for the night or Castiel took Dean for himself, making him happy. But they were nothing more than dreams and weird fantasies that didn't help Castiel at all when it came to reality. That's probably what hurt the worst. Knowing that the things that happened in those dreams would never happen in the real world. Him and Dean shared something, a profound bond of sorts. They were close, the best of friends and that's all it would probably ever be. Sometimes he felt the lines blur, but surely it was all in his head due to the dreams... It had to be, right?

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine. Time to get up and get going. Here are some clothes for you. We'll swing by your place later to pick up your stuff but those will do for now."

After the events of last night, Castiel honestly didn't think he'd find solitude or peace in sleep. Especially not after his nightmare. But being close to Dean, right next to him. It brought him comfort. Wither it was subconsciously or not, he had grabbed onto Dean while he had been sleeping, to keep him there. Thankfully he had let go of his best friend before the younger man had woke up to get ready for the big day. Castiel had grabbed the clothes and glanced over towards Dean and felt his eyes glued to what he was seeing. Dean was dripping wet and practically naked, the only thing that covered him was a towel. Castiel looked away at the clothes in his lap and tried his hardest to stop his face from heating up.

Dean had no shame when it came to his body. To be honest, Castiel didn't see anything to be shameful of, but he had been raised differently. Yet he couldn't fight temptation and glanced secretly back towards the other's form when Dean turned around and dropped the towel to get dressed. Before Dean could catch him he looked away and then headed off towards the bathroom. "Sure, just let me shower and get ready." He winced to himself, his voice was a lower octave, gruffer than usual. Hopefully Dean would only chalk it up to him being sleepy.

"Want a cup of coffee? I'll put this in a travel mug or something; we'll drink it on the way there." The question came from the kitchen and Castiel wholeheartedly agreed. "You know I can't survive the morning without the stuff" It's what for better or worse made his mornings liveable. Castiel made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and tried to get control over his body. After seeing Dean's body, he still felt hot. His body clearly liked what he had saw. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore that part of his anatomy that clearly could tell the world about how he felt. Instead, he turned the water on ice cold and lathered up. Once his shower was finished, he dried off and quickly got dressed in Dean's clothes. His pants fell a little loose so he was grateful for the belt he normally wore. He'd have to put that on.

The button up that was light blue went with his eyes. For a split second, he wondered if that was why Dean had picked it out but quickly threw that idea out the window. No, it was just a shirt. He was being a woman and over thinking everything and making it something it wasn't. The shirt was a little long on him and loose on the shoulders since he was slimmer than Dean. But it wasn't so much that it looked bad on him. Then he had another thought. He was wearing Dean's clothes. He mentally smacked himself and tried to get a hold of himself. Maybe he had a little too much to drink and was still hung over? The coffee would help him sober up if that was the case. His feelings were getting confusing that was for sure.

The car ride over to the precinct was what they usually were like. Silent. It wasn't awkward though, it was never awkward which was something that Castiel was grateful for. Castiel felt Dean constantly glance in his direction though, it made him feel a little odd. Though Castiel knew Dean was only glancing at him to make sure he was okay after last night's confession. He couldn't know what was really going on in Castiel's brain. No, the brunette wasn't having thoughts of last night's conversation. He was more or less running over the dream he had had. It wasn't a nightmare, it was the total opposite. It was probably the biggest fantasy wet dream you could ever imagine. He tried to keep his eyes to the streets they passed by knowing that if he met Dean's eyes, he'd blush red.

Dean had pulled into his parking space at the precinct and shut off the engine. Then he looked over at Castiel with a small smirk. Castiel did a small smile back at him, feeling slightly more at ease then watched him get out, as he followed and did the same. He shut the car closed a couple of seconds after Dean had and then glanced back over towards him. "Alright Cas, let's get this over with." Dean had led the way into the large building, walking up to a very familiar man. Castiel instantly recognized him as the officer who had been in charge of his case the first time a year ago.

"Castiel, good to see you again. I heard about your apartment, everything alright?" The man asked, running a large hand over and equally large mustache. Castiel nodded and spoke with a soft voice. "It is nice too see you as well, though I wish it was under different circumstances." He shook the other officer's hand kindly and let go looking at Dean as he explained the situation.

"He has information on his case; I brought him in to give you guys the run through of it." Dean told him, placing a hand on the small of Cas' back and gently pushing him closer to the officer. Castiel felt a tingle shoot through him from where the contact was started. He was forcible edged closer towards the other man, he decided to not look at Dean in fear of his face turning red at the touch. What was wrong with him? He had drank all of the coffee in the travel mug during the car ride. He was wide awake now and had no other excuses for what was happening to him. It didn't matter though, nothing would come from these feelings. It was better to bury them before they became something worse that would only hurt more in the long run.

"Does this have to do with the writing on the wall of the apartment?" The officer asked, face going completely serious as he glanced between Castiel and Dean. Good humor and everything seemed to fly out the window once he got his game face on. Now was the time to tell the other man everything he had told Dean last night. Especially if they ever wanted to get anywhere with finding the others. "Yeah, I'll let him tell you, I have to go talk to someone." Dean patted Castiel on the shoulder once more. All of the contact between them wasn't making things easier for Castiel to think at all.

He grounded himself and decided he'd try and put a stop to all the touching. Castiel watched Dean walk away into the direction of an office from the looks of it. He continued watching until Dean knocked and then disappeared through the door. "You've got it bad my friend. Anyways, come follow me, we'll be in interrogation room 2." He led the way and Castiel followed him a bit confused and once they were in the room, he couldn't hold back his question any longer.

"Excuse me? I don't understand what you mean?" Castiel said as he turned his attention to the man. The officer pointed to the chair and Castiel took a seat. "You know, they always say that when someone helps another person get out of a really hard and emotional time... emotions build up and feelings surface. I never really believed it until now. It's fine, wither your ready to come to terms with it or he knows. It'll happen when the times right. But your feelings or lack there of isn't why Dean brought you in. Tell me what I should know." Castiel nodded and told him everything. Even some details that were too hard to get out when it came to talking to Dean. Meg is the only name I know besides Alastair. "

"Wait? You mean to tell me that there were at least a total of four people there and there's only two that you got the names of?" The officer found as he wrote down everything Castiel was saying, taking down his statement word for word. Castiel nodded and elaborated on the subject matter. "The other two...they liked to watch. They weren't the kind to get their hands dirty. At least not when it could be traced back to them. I heard their voices once... I'll never forget what they sound like. One was American and the other was from England. But besides accents, I've got nothing. I don't know what they look like or their name. Each of them came in once or twice but I was always blind folded when they did."

"I know it's hard and you don't really want to go back to that place.. but can you tell me if they did anything at all to you?" Castiel nodded and said very lowly that they had touched him. They didn't make him do anything but they did run their hands over his body. It was one of the reasons why he didn't like to be touched by almost everyone. The officer nodded and asked if there was anything else he needed to know. Castiel shook his head. He had said all he could think of.

All that was ideal and important anyways of finding the others...or at the very least Meg who could be behind everything. Just then there was a knock at the door and Castiel jumped. He was clearly startled and glanced wide eyed as Dean opened the door. "Once your done I need Castiel. We have a witness in another case to question." The officer spoke to Dean in return. "We're almost done here anyways Dean and then you can have your...friend back." Dean had waved the folder around and then closed the door once more leaving them both alone. Castiel had noticed that the man had purposely paused before using the word friend in front of Dean. "Please refrain from throwing any loose accusations around. I do not need to loose the only thing I have that is keeping me grounded. If.. I don't know what'd I do if I lost him."

"Castiel... I don't think I need to tell you how unhealthy it is to only depend solely on one person. I can't psychoanalyze the shrink. You know these things. You'll also know how to deal with it if things do go south. I think we're done here. Go ahead and help Dean out." Castiel nodded and extended his hand, thanking the officer once more. "Thanks again Hendrickson."  
>"No problem Cas. Take care of Winchester... He's not that bad of a guy." Castiel smiled softly once more and exited the room to find Dean sitting in a chair waiting for him. He refrained from touching him despite all of Victor's encouragement. He figured it'd be best to keep his hands to himself. He'd have to learn how to not depend on Dean... even if he needed him the most right now. He steeled his heart and tried to get his mind off of things. Maybe Samuel Winchester was right.<p>

He'd never get anywhere in life with the way he acted, let alone ...get together with someone. Perhaps he'd suggest to go out to the bar or something and try his hardest to be..normal. Whatever the hell that meant nowadays. Castiel leaned against the wall with his head up, exposing his neck while he closed his eyes. So many things had been said and brought to the surface with Hendrickson. So much he had wanted buried forever. It was going to be stressful to have it always on his mind now. He tried to calm himself down by breathing slowly in and out. He'd get over it, he'd calm down. He had to. He relaxed somewhat before gazing over towards Dean who had been overlooking a file.

"I assume you want me to help you with the murder investigation you were talking about last night? The sole survivor is just a boy, correct?" Castiel frowned as he thought to himself. He was great with getting what he wanted out of criminals. It was easy to sometimes either intimidate them with his demeanor and get them to crack. Or perhaps sympathize with their cause and make them think they were a God and ask how they had done it? How they were so much more than just the average human. Those criminals were easy, they were fools. But children... That was something entirely different. Castiel was somewhat good with kids depending on the situation.

Though in others...he didn't know what the hell to do. It was awkward and it made him seem all the more not human. He could never really see himself as a father if he were to be honest. Dean on the other hand... Dean was amazing with children. He had seen it a few times. He could easily imagine Dean with some brunette that could give him everything that he could ever want. Some loving woman who'd have dinner on the table for when Dean came home. Of course they'd have one if not two children. He could see Dean having a son who'd work on cars with him. Castiel came to terms right then and there that whatever they had or didn't have... it'd never amount to anything compared to what a woman could give to him and what Dean deserved. Castiel would be on the sidelines watching and would always be the best friend. That was fine too... Castiel was surprisingly okay with that. As long as he was somewhere in Dean's life, he didn't care where or what he was doing in it.

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><p><strong>Read and Review please. : )<br>**


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